Oathbreaker
by Zenith Meriadoc
Summary: AU. Link seeks the legendary Sword of Rebirth to secure his dream of having a family. In doing so, he inadvertently breaks the holding seal, jump-starting a series of horrific events and releasing a calamity upon the world. This is not a tale for the faint of heart, prepare yourself for a story wrought with darkness, lust, rage and brutality. For mature readers only.
1. Prologue and Chapter 1

Prologue

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_Our world is dying._

_When the ones who have power abuse it, and the ones who have strength withhold it, how can the world prosper?_

_Surely the only fate for such blindness is destruction._

_-Unknown_

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Eoin's Tavern was the only decent watering hole in this side of the town proper, in Kieran's humble opinion. Kieran Baerler was a singular sort of man. Hard-working, one might even say. He'd like to think he was honest too, and every honest man deserved a cold pint of beer after a hard, honest day's work in the fields.

Except, these days there wasn't much working in the fields. Horrific things were happening that made Kieran feel like he was in a different world. Vile creatures that could never be imagined prowled the lands, including the one that used to be his farm, and, just like everyone else, he was forced to move into the town for safety.

Still, he needed a beer. Badly.

Entering through the shuttered doors, Kieran was welcomed with a stiff nod from the eponymous barkeep.

Kieran returned the gesture with slightly more warmth and pulled up a seat at the bar. Eoin pulled a frothing mug of the former farmer's favourite stout from the tap and placed it before him. The foam sloshed over the side of the mug and beads of cold sweat traced down the sides of the glass.

"You know just what a man needs, dontcha?" Kieran graciously accepted the mug and took a satisfying sip. "Oh, for all that is good and heavenly, I needed that!" He took another large gulp and wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve, smacking his lips.

Kieran paused to glance around, having not taken account of the occupants when he walked in. Now with a cool refreshment in his possession, he noticed the tavern had more patrons than usual. There were the dairy farmers hunched over their drinks and food, talking all secret-like—they were always self-important like that, even in the better days. He continued his appraisal of the occupants and saw a couple of Kieran's fellow wheat farmers sitting in the far side booths. They gave him a small nod of acknowledgement when he caught their gaze, and he returned it likewise.

It was when Kieran's gaze strayed further that he noticed a cloaked stranger sitting in a dark corner at the very back of the tavern. The lantern at their table flickered, and Kieran caught sight of the gleam of shined metal on him. He was carrying weapons.

The hooded man raised his gaze from the document he was writing and looked in Kieran's direction. The farmer immediately turned back to the front of the bar and focused on his mug. He knew better than to go against a look of warning like that, so Kieran turned his attention elsewhere.

The serving girl, Marie, came into view as she grabbed a nearby rag and began shining the glass mugs behind the bar. She was the main reason for tavern's popularity. She was as sweet as a sugar dumpling and cute as a button, offsetting her boss' surly disposition.

Kieran's skin prickled as the cold night air that blew into past him and the door of the pub swung open.

"It's them," Marie whispered to no one in particular.

The horror and revulsion was plain in her voice. Kieran hunched over his beer in a protective fashion. He didn't have to look to know who could inspire such fear in Marie.

They had to be mercenaries.

With the influx of dangerous monsters and the instability of war raging around Hyrule, regular folk had come to rely on the services of mercenaries to fill the vacuum left by men who had gone off to join the Imperial war effort. Several years ago, mercenaries were part of the dredges of society, openly scorned and ridiculed, so the irony of their new-found value was not lost on them and they milked it for all it was worth.

The mercenaries who walked in were known to everyone in town. Their leader, Markeena, was loud, vicious and crude, but was her band of mercenaries were the best in the region. Her band's services came with a hefty price, and that price was Marie.

They waltzed into the tavern loudly, laughing and guffawing. It was plain that they had just come from a successful job, and were in high spirits.

Taking up the entire back lot of the tavern, the mercenaries made it impossible for the other patrons to drink in peace. They couldn't hear themselves over the mercenaries' raucous banter.

"Oi, bring us drinks on the double!" one of the mercenaries shouted. "We're parched 'ere!" They slammed and slapped the table, jeering the barkeep to move as quickly as possible.

When Marie brought serving trays with their beverages, she tried to seem busy with other patrons and rushed to leave their table.

"And where do you think _you're_ runnin' off to?" Markenna's hand shot out like a bullet and grabbed Marie's wrist. The serving girl froze when she felt the mercenary pull her close and forced her to sit on Markenna's lap.

"Didn't you miss me, li'l bunnit?" the mercenary purred. She groped one of Marie's substantial breasts and squeezed it. "I'm in a really festive mood tonight. I reckon we might have Dagren here join in on the fun. You'd like that, wouldn't you," she snaked her hand up Marie's skirt and grinned huskily, "sweet, sweet Marie?"

The mercenaries didn't care for her response, as they bellowed with vicious laughter when her face deepened in colour. Marie was so ashamed, angry and humiliated that she could barely stop herself from shaking as Markenna continued to violate her in front of everyone.

"Let her be."

The voice was a foreign one, strong, cultured and refined. The patrons' searched for the source, and it was the hooded traveller sitting near the mercenaries.

Markenna turned around and when she saw him, she snorted in disdain. "Oh yeah? Or else what?"

"Markenna…" her watery-eyed companion whispered, "he's wearing an Empire uniform…"

"Oh, is that right? Well, I don't like me Empire scum," her lip curled into nasty smirk. Markenna shooed Marie off her (who gladly put as much distance as she could between them) as she stood from her chair and walked up to him and lean over, pressing her hand upon his document in an aggressive manner.

When the hooded soldier didn't respond to her provocation, she grimaced and knocked over the ink bottle on his table. It soaked the document he had been working on. Her pettiness made her grin, and then she went back to her seat. The Empire soldier distinctly caught her scoff in a low voice, "Empire cunt."

In a swift movement quicker than a flash of lightning, he pinned Markenna's face into the table and twisted her right arm into a painful knot at the shoulder. With her face ground firmly into the splintery table, Markenna could only hiss and moan in agony. Her comrades were stunned, and dared not move an inch; all the Empire soldier had to do was add the slightest bit of pressure and he could rip out her entire limb from the socket.

The loud crash made the patrons jump from their seats.

"Why don't you say that bit one more time?" the soldier's tone was light and pleasant.

When Markenna mouthed her words, he added more pressure.

"I'm sorry. I couldn't hear you. A little louder please, so everyone can hear."

"…Empire—AH"

"I said _louder_."

Markenna was in so much pain she had to suck at her breath through her teeth rapidly, and then heaved, "Empire-," she paused to regain her breath, "I said 'Empire cunt'!"

The hooded soldier hummed in approval. He jerked his head at the serving girl, beckoning her to come back. The entire tavern watched in taut silence.

She gulped and nodded. Her chestnut plaits swung as she slowly made her way beside him.

"Her arm or her face?" The hooded solider looked up at the serving girl expectantly."You have the honour of choosing which one this animal loses."

Marie was stunned. "You mean-"

"No, no, please don't! Please!" Markenna cried, spittle frothing at the corner of her mouth. She tried to crane her gaze up at Marie, her eyes bulging. "I beg of you, please!"

The tension in the barroom was palpable. Marie risked a look at the barkeep, and he, with his elderly face tight with tension, responded with a stiff nod. Marie's gaze returned to the prone form of Markenna with darkened eyes.

"Her arm, then." Her voice was cold and resolute. The solider liked that.

"Y-you can't do this! You can't!" Markenna screamed frantically. Then she added as if it made a difference, "I—I'm a woman!"

"Let me tell you a little secret," he leaned close to her and whispered in her ear. His voice was as smooth and sweet as honey, "I believe in equal opportunity."

When the horror of realization dawned on her face, the Empire soldier grinned. He didn't give her the courtesy of making the movement quick; he slowly ground her twisted, locked shoulder in and then after short, sickening pop and tearing sounded, he ripped off her arm. Makenna shrieked and fell to the floor, blinded by the sheer intensity of the pain. Her comrades rushed to her side and attempted to use their napkins and dirty rags to stem the profuse blood flow.

His attention was diverted when the tavern door swung open and smacked the adjacent wall loudly. It was a pair of Empire soldiers. Between the screams, the haze of blood in the air and the severed limb in his grasp, the soldiers dared not step further inside the tavern.

"Commander Link!" they saluted. Their uneasiness slightly seeped through their stern mask of professionalism. "You are needed back at camp, sir."

"Very well. Inform the General I will be there shortly." He gave them a dismissive wave. "I don't need escorts."

The soldiers were not going to argue with that. "Sir." They saluted him briskly and left.

Link let out a short breath of frustration. He wanted to finish writing his letter in peace, but then _this_ had to happen.

He spared the vile mercenary a look of contempt; it was a mercy that he didn't end her life for inconveniencing him. Killing Red Legion soldiers was one thing, murdering people who were deemed as civilians was another. The latter seemed draw more ire from his superiors.

Link casually stepped over the growing pool of blood blossoming near the mercenary's thrashing form and plopped the severed arm before the serving girl.

"To the winner, the spoils."

He gave her a chilling smile and left, disappearing into the night.

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Chapter 1

_-Seven years earlier_

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"Link, do you see anything?"

Owlan's voice was barely above a whisper.

Link shot a quick glance at Owlan, who awaited the young hunter's response.

Owlan, Link's superior and a True Hunter, was along on the mission strictly to oversee his performance and to provide support should things go south. It was odd that he would have to take orders from Link, given that he was Link's supervisor. But that was the point of Link's training: he had to learn how to lead and take control.

The rangers nearby also awaited Link's signal. They were hidden well in the thicket, staying within the shadows and hardly moving, their presence almost undetectable. Link used to feel anxious in situations like these. The fact that rangers almost twice his age were awaiting his orders put a lot of pressure on the fifteen year-old. He had to remind himself that he was a Senior Hunter and their superior because of his merits, that his skill-set and ability warranted such a promotion-and not because he was favoured by Chief Bradyn.

No matter. He had to focus on the task at hand.

Link sniffed the air and shook his head.

"No. But I know it's here. Wait a little longer. It's close."

Link gripped the pommel of his hunter's knife and crouched low. The uniform of the Hunter's Guild comprised of very little armour, as wearing too much would comprise speed, agility and sound. They wore only greaves, vambraces and a left-sided chest guard and connecting pauldron fastened with leather straps. The vambraces were specialized—the right one had a fanned shield that could be released via tripping a spring mechanism—and the rest of their gear was fortified with slick, indestructible scales fashioned out of the hide of the now-extinct water dragon.

They were currently hunting a particularly rare and dangerous beast known as a gyornbull. It's known to roam the lands to the far north, so it was surprising to hear villagers reporting a beast with the same descriptors as it. It had been lurking within the forests for some time now, but it was far too close to human dwellings for comfort. While the gyornbull could be seen it as clear as day from the vantage point in the trees, it had a nasty ability of being able to make illusions of itself to lure out its target before swooping in for the kill.

He could feel the rangers tense when there was a flicker of movement in the distance. The shadow of the beast emerged from the tree line below. Link raised his hand, signalling the party to wait a little longer. He could tell that they wanted to take action now, but Link's instincts told him to standby.

And his instincts were never wrong.

The shadow then faded when the real gyornbull snuck out its hiding place.

It was time.

"Go!"

Link pounced out of the thicket, unsheathing his hunter's blade. They ran down the hillside and into the meadow below. They were halfway down when the gyornbull spotted them and began to flee to the other side of the meadow.

"Everett! Rhian!" Link called as they sped down the hillside. "Set a perimeter right away! I want Yanick and Goe to provide support while Owlan and I take it down!"

"Roger!" the team shouted, and they split up to follow their respective directives.

Owlan shot a look over his shoulder at Link. "Don't let your guard down," he rumbled.

He was of course referring to the rangers and not the beast.

Link nodded in grim understanding. Owlan was right; it wouldn't be the first time his assigned subordinates would deliberately muck up to make Link look bad, or worse, try to have him thrown out of the Hunter's Guild. No one liked the fact that Link was mentored by Chief Bradyn, and he had first-hand experience on how jealousy could make people do nasty things.

When the pair reached the valley at the bottom, Everett and Rhian successfully penned the area so the gyornbull couldn't escape. They used tools called barrier pins; once they were inserted the area within the triangulated section would become cordoned off in an invisible and almost unbreakable magnetic boundary.

Normally Link did not like using such a technique as it guaranteed the fight part in the flight-or-fight instinct in a pursued animal. And a desperate animal with nowhere to hide was not an easy thing to handle. But the gyornbull needed to be taken down, and it was far too intelligent to be allowed to get away.

As expected, when the gyornbull realized that it was trapped it became viciously hostile. Link and Owlan circled the beast, waiting for the moment to attack. They had to do it simultaneously, as one single hit from this animal could mean shattered bones or ruptured organs.

The gyornbull chose Link as its target, charging at him with tusks that emerged from its jaw. Link didn't expect that it was a female-only they had hunting tusks! He quickly dove to the right, missing it just barely as its razor-sharp ivory tip grazed his shoulder plate. As he was in transit, he fished taut wire from his pouch and threw the handle to Owlan. He caught it and ran towards the skidding gyornbull.

Link recovered stayed in position as Owlan caught up with the beast and traced the wire around its feet. The beast, blinded by desperate rage, fell into Link's trap as it tripped over the wire when it moved to charge at Link once more. It fell to the ground with a resounding thump that made the surrounding trees shake.

Not wasting any time, Link produced a small packet from the utility pouch strapped to his hip, pulled the pin from its centre, and threw it over the writhing animal. The packet exploded, producing a massive net that fell upon the beast and pinned it firmly to the ground.

The gyornbull howled, frustrated at its immobilization. It was so far from its natural habitat, and it pained Link to know that it would probably die soon; Ordon was not rich like its ally, the United Hyrulean Empire, and they could not afford costly measures like cross-continental relocation of endangered animals. He had the sudden urge to put the creature out of its misery and hack its head off right then and there, but such a sudden, brutal act would unnerve his queasy subordinates and, more importantly, displease Owlan. There was a process to killing when you were a hunter.

Heaving a deep sigh, Link signalled for Everett and Rhian to disable the barrier. Link noticed their hesitation, but when Owlan gave them a pointed look they complied.

Yanik and Gowyn pulled the last two barrier pins and approached Owlan and Link. They spared the younger hunter a disdainful, arrogant look that Link did not appreciate.

They wanted Link to fail, and they wanted him to fail miserably. It wasn't easy to accept for them to accept that someone the same age as their sons could become a hunter—a profession that every Ordon-born man worth his salt coveted. Those who did not have the skill required were relegated to becoming rangers, and many stayed in that position for the rest of their lives. But Link could tell it was more than that—they hated him for what he was, and resented his very existence.

Link smirked at them darkly in response. The rangers quickly averted their gaze. They could hate him all they wanted, but he and they both knew there was nothing they could do about it.

Owlan, however, was livid.

"What the hell are you doing standing around? I want you four to tell the villagers that beast has been caught. They are allowed to leave their homes now," Owlan instructed. "You are free to return to Ordon after that."

The rangers shrugged and walked away. They didn't care as long as they didn't have to do any more dangerous work.

"Feckless maggots," Owlan spat before turning his attention to Link. "So, what is your decision?"

This was Link's mission after all, so it was his job to have the final say. He related to Owlan his professional opinion, and the white-haired hunter nodded in agreement.

"I think that is the most appropriate course of action, if you feel there is nothing more we can do for it."

Link nodded, his lips setting into a grim line.

"It is, since we don't have the resources…"

Owlan folded his arms across his chest and tilted his head in approval.

"Then do what you have to do, Senior Hunter."

Link looked down at the beast, whose eyes burned into the hunter with frustration and anger. He had read that they were far more intelligent than average, and from the way it looked at Link he could feel its emotions. It wasn't the gyornbull's fault that it was in a place that it shouldn't have. For it come all the way here, it must have been driven from its home by none other than humans. If it could talk, it would curse Link and the entire human race, so instead it stared daggers at him.

_I'm sorry_, Link hoped his sentiments would reach the gyornbull's heart. He knelt down and moved to his hand towards the beast's head, but it flinched and struggled against the heavy netting.

There was a specific protocol that all Ordon hunters had to follow when slaughtering an animal, whether for consumption or for safety. The blade used had to be sharp so the head could be severed from the neck in one strike, and it had to be done such that the animal could not witness it. One could call the hunter method humane.

To Link, it just gave sanctioned murder the illusion of honour.

So even as the beast thrashed, Link put his hand firmly over its eyes and raised his blade. He paused when he noticed the gyornbull stop struggling; its breathing became ragged and slow—it knew its death was nigh.

The beast's sudden calmness surprised the hunter. It had more honour in accepting death than many humans, who would pathetically beg for salvation even in their final moments.

For that, Link took extra care that his strike was swift and deadly. The blade cut through the netting and sliced the gyornbull's flesh, the sensation reminding him a sharp axe upon a soft block of wood.

The beast died instantly. Blood erupted from the severed arteries like a blown geyser, drenching Link with its warm dark green blood.

It was never easy taking a life, even that of an animal. It didn't make a difference that it was an animal and not a human-was not a gyornbull soul still a soul at the end of the day? The responsibility of sending a life to the hereafter was a heavy burden to bear-at least, that's the belief Chief Bradyn had drilled into him relentlessly. Nevertheless, a part of Link that he kept buried deep found the act of slaughter cathartic.

He felt a hand grip his shoulder.

It was Owlan.

"You did well, Link. We should go back to Ordon before it gets too late."

He then offered the youth his hand. Link looked to the sky; the sun was passing midday, and if they didn't leave now they would have to stay in the small forest settlement until daybreak.

Link accepted Owlan's hand and was hauled to his feet. He picked up the gyornbull's severed head, as body would be proof for the villagers and the head would be for the Elders back home. He did not look at it once during his trek back, but if he did, he would have seen the dignified expression etched on the gyornbull's dead face.

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Link and Owlan made it back to Ordon quicker than the young hunter expected. The sky had still darkened considerably and the sun was barely over the horizon, so Owlan offered to take the mark's head to the Guild Elders in Link's stead. As Owlan was already a True Hunter, he had nothing to gain from taking Link's mark as his own, so the youth gladly thanked him and headed home. He had been away for far too long.

As he approached the house, Link saw a silhouette disappear from the second floor window. Just as he reached the door, it sprung open.

"Brother!"

Link's knees were bound together by a tight hug. Link smiled and patted Arryn's fluffy hair. The eight-year-old looked up at Link brightly.

"Come, it's not good to stand at the doorway," Link said gently.

"Oh, right."

The youngster released Link's legs so he could enter.

As Link closed the door behind him, Arryn backed away from Link as if he were a wild animal. Link looked at his brother's fearful expression with confusion, until he realized the light from inside illuminated the blood that stained his entire upper body.

"Did…did Brother kill something today?" Arryn whispered.

The question was more of a statement. Arryn was extremely lucid for his age, and it broke Link's heart. It was times like these that Link became painfully aware of his younger brother's loss of innocence. Unlike other children, he knew fully well what death meant. There was no point in lying to him, so Link nodded.

"Did it try to hurt you?"

"No."

When Arryn's large eyes looked at Link questioningly, he searched for a proper way to word his response.

"Sometimes we have to…deal with animals when they are too close to people," Link explained, wishing he didn't sound so patronizing as he did so, "Especially if they are dangerous. We have to put them down."

Arryn did not say anything for moment, and then he looked away.

"Oh."

Link didn't know why he just felt like he had been judged. Even though Arryn was smart for his age, he was still just a child. He was too young to understand the harsh realities of this world.

Nevertheless, Link knew Arryn was only hyper-aware of things like killing and death because of their late parents. They had passed away four years ago, just when Arryn was old enough to remember them.

Link remembered that day clearly. It was Arryn who found their bloodied corpses in their bedroom.

It happened when Link was a couple of weeks shy of turning eleven. It was just after dawn when Arryn burst into Link's room, sobbing hysterically about Mum and Dad not waking up. Link sprung from his bed when he saw the four-year-old's hands and pajamas covered in blood. Link sprinted down the hallway and into the master bedroom. His parents looked like they always did when they were asleep, holding one another in each other's arms.

Link froze when he stepped into a pool of blood. It covered the entire floor and it was leaking from the bed.

It was upon closer inspection that it had become painfully clear what had happened.

The blood-drenched sheets. The blood-caked knife on the dresser. The telltale cuts at their wrists.

Link said nothing, and felt nothing. He simply took little Arryn by the hand, cleaned him up, and alerted a passing guard of the corpses of two cowards rotting in his house.

Since then Arryn could not bear the sight of blood; getting something as innocuous as a paper cut would drive the youngster into full-blown panic attacks. Luckily, the green colour of the gyornbull's blood did not trigger anything in Arryn, though the knowledge alone was enough to upset him.

"Have you eaten anything yet?" Link swiftly changed subjects as he kicked the heavily soled boots off his aching feet.

"Not yet," Arryn answered, welcoming the shift in conversation. "I waited for you to come back so I can eat it with you."

"I'm going to wash up. You can start without me."

Arryn nodded, only too eager to get away from Link in his bloodied state and disappeared into the dining room. Link went upstairs and stripped off his uniform before cleaning his face and hair in the washing basin. The water instantly turned green, with dried flakes of gyornbull blood floating on the surface. With a soapy rag Link attempted to clear the residue from his hair and neck, but he knew that it probably wouldn't be enough. He'd have to go to the bathhouse first thing tomorrow morning.

Satisfied that he was clean enough for Arryn, Link donned a fresh tunic and cotton trousers and made his way back to the ground floor. His face lit up with pleasant surprise when he entered the dining room.

"Arryn…"

The table was set beautifully, complete with finely folded napkins, lit candles and a vase filled with field flowers. There was so much food, and it looked positively mouth-watering. He could see his favourite dish of grilled skewers of marinated beef and chunky vegetables on a massive platter waiting for him.

"I spent all day cooking this with Rowyn."

Link's heart skipped a beat at the mention of her.

"Rowyn? Is she here?"

Arryn shook his head. "No. But she was. We wanted to surprise you…but we didn't know if you would be back tonight, so she went to work."

"Why did you want to surprise me?"

Arryn smiled at Link as if he said the silliest thing in the world. "Because today is your birthday, Brother! Today, you're sixteen years old!"

Link couldn't believe it. He forgot his own birthday.

He was so busy with the gyornbull situation that he thought of little else for the past couple of weeks. It was his job to prep the mission by visiting the villagers and interviewing them, along with setting up the protocol for capture. After all, he had to ace the assignment if he wanted a chance in hell of becoming a True Hunter. Since joining the profession, dates were of little consequence to him other than the day of his monthly salary deposit into his bank account.

All of this food...Arryn had probably worked with Rowyn since the morning to fill the table this much. It made Link emotional.

"Thank you, Arryn."

Link embraced his brother to hide the tears that threatened to fall from his eyes.

"No problem! It was a lot of fun!" Arryn chirped happily. "Let's eat!"

Link disengaged and immediately wiped any strays away before Arryn could see them, and nodded.

"Right," he smiled.

They sat down and commenced their feast.

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When they devoured the last piece of cake, Link patted his belly in satisfaction. Arryn had eaten so much he could barely finish his slice. He was already nodding off to sleep.

Carefully picking him up, Link carried Arryn off to his bed and gently tucked him in. The youngster was fast asleep by now. Link watched as the covers rose slowly up and down timed with his gentle breathing.

Link swept Arryn's hair away from eyes, his finger trailing on his soft cheek. He looked so peaceful when he was asleep, blissfully unaware of the true ugliness of the world. He was still unsullied from the fact that life only gave you bad options and the only thing you could hope to do was choose the least destructive one. But Link hoped that this world wouldn't take away Arryn's pure heart.

As for Link...he lost his faith in humanity long ago.

After making sure that the burglar wires were secure around the entrances and windows, Link returned to Arryn's room and shut the curtain before lying down beside his brother, putting a protective arm around him.

As Link was pulled into the depth of slumber, he would repeat the same mantra to himself every night.

_I'll keep Arryn safe. I'll protect him. I won't abandon him. I'll do whatever it takes...whatever it takes…whatever it takes._

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True to his plans, Link woke up at the crack of dawn and headed for the bathhouse. Arryn was still fast asleep, and Link planned on cleaning up before returning to prepare him for school. Arryn enjoyed their walks to the schoolhouse.

Grabbing a fresh set of clothing to change into, Link donned a jacket over his rumpled shirt and head out the door. The town was still asleep, with stray cats and the odd squirrel scampering by.

Ordon was a much different place than the one he remembered growing up. The Ordon of Link's childhood was no bigger than a village. There used to be a grassy field in front of his house; there was now a three-storey building and a gated mansion in its place. Luckily, Link's home was in a settlement that was older and wealthier than the newer developments in the town centre, so it was larger and made of sturdier materials like stone, brick and clay tile roofing. The newer houses were made of lower quality materials like thatch and wood, as they were made quickly to accommodate the population influx since Ordon's membership to the United Hyrulean Empire.

As Link passed the town square, he realized that he had taken a wrong turn at the last intersection. There were no real street signs or numbering to speak of. The town of Ordon was really an amalgamation of various settlements that had slowly merged together overtime, owing to its haphazard design. The only unifying aspect of Ordon was the Chief's mansion, which was carved into the cliff overlooking the entire town like an ever-present sentinel.

The thought of the Chief made Link's heart swell with gratitude.

He was barely eleven when the responsibility of head of the household was thrust upon him, so he needed work to provide for Arryn. Yet no one wanted to hire him. Link knew it was because of his parents; they probably thought Link would be a bad omen for them. The superstitious townsfolk didn't want 'the ugly shame' staining them as well.

Just as desperation and despair was about to set in, Link happened upon an outdoor training session for the Hunter's Guild. Realizing that the most profitable profession in Ordon was hunting, Link decided he would use his paltry inheritance to complete hunter training classes.

Link wasn't bookish by any means, and hunting seemed to be his calling. He was able to channel his determination and anger into something productive, and it paid off. He was the top of his class, surpassing his peers who were much older than him. His talent did not go unnoticed, as Chief Bradyn, the Leader of Ordon and Elder of the Hunter's Guild, was impressed with the boy's physical adeptness and decided to take Link under his wing.

Thus, Link's career as a hunter took off.

It wasn't easy, however.

His relationship with Chief Bradyn was not without its drawbacks. As people could not criticize the respected leader for his selfless act of charity (as they believed that was the only reason why someone like Bradyn would help), they decided to direct their vitriol towards Link instead. He had no friends within the Guild, as none of his peers wanted to have 'the Chief's pet' as their sparring partner.

While he didn't care too much about what other people thought of him, Link wanted to prove to the Chief that he was not wrong in taking a chance with the lad. The isolation and scorn he received from his peers only served to strengthen the youngster's resolve. Link had worked tirelessly, moving up in the ranks and demonstrating mastery in all of the Hunter Arts.

Now, after four gruelling years, Link was only one assessment away from attaining the highest position in the Guild, the rank of True Hunter.

With that rank, Link's life would finally be secure. He would be formally inducted into Hunter's Guild, given a ceremonial sword and a squad of his own choosing to command. He would be at the mercy of unpredictable, contractual assignments no longer.

But more importantly he'd have a stable salary that dwarfed the paltry amount he was currently making, and benefits to help pay for Arryn's education and medicine.

Becoming a True Hunter…everything hinged on it. All he had to do was strive hard for just a little bit longer.

_Soon_, Link would promise himself, _soon I'll finally be able to breathe._

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Link reached the bathhouse just as its doors opened to the public. Many of the older homes in Ordon did not have modern plumbing, and he didn't have the money to renovate, so the public bathhouse was his only way to properly wash up. Normally it would be quite expensive, but luckily being part of the Hunter's Guild, and in turn a public servant, gave Link many discounts.

"Ho there Link!" Norlan, the red-faced proprietor, greeted. He had a basket of towels, scented soaps and lotions ready for young hunter.

"How are you doing Norlan?" Link smiled and handed him a bronze coin. "Am I the first one here?"

"Yes, yes! And I hear you got rid of that beast botherin' the folks down in the forest, didn't you?"

Norlan handed Link the basket, and he smiled in return. Civilians were not privy to hunter mission details, so he couldn't say much. But Norlan was one of the few people that had always treated Link with friendly banter, so he didn't mind sharing a little bit of workaday life.

"That's right. There shouldn't be problems in the forests anymore."

"Glad to hear that, m'boy. You have a good wash."

_Thanks,_ Link smiled before heading inside. He was happy to have the entire main bathing floor to himself. It was common knowledge that bathhouses were known for being the place where men with…_different_ inclinations frequented. Being a hunter allowed Link to read and interpret nonverbal cues right away, and he quickly learned to look out for certain signs and signals to protect him from unwanted encounters.

But it sickened Link when he realized how many times he had been propositioned to by men he believed were only being kind to him.

The first incident was the easiest one to remember, and it was easily the most traumatizing.

It was during the time when his parents' scandalous passing was still fresh in the minds of the townsfolk, and people either showed Link open hostility or pointed indifference. Arryn was too young to understand; he thought they were angry _for_ him, the poor thing.

It was at another bathhouse west of the town centre. Link would come to that one in particular because he could sneak in with little Arryn once a week, as there was a specific time where the proprietor left the premises himself for whatever reason, and the stand-in was oblivious that the two boys weren't the sons of any of the wealthy patrons.

One day, as he was busy washing his brother, a man approached him with a friendly smile. He looked like a nice person, and he started talking with Link. The man said that he had heard of Link's difficulties and then offered him a well-paying job as his personal attendant. All Link had to do was come to his home on the other side of town every other night.

Night? That struck Link as odd. He never heard of attendants having to work at such a time. Link thought maybe he was a rich lord, as the part of town he said he lived on was where all the nobles lived. Maybe he needed help with the many meetings and extravagant parties people of his calibre probably had often?

Link remembered saying he wasn't sure about the times, as he had Arryn to take care of. But the man insisted that time wouldn't be a problem, and that he could bring his brother along if he liked.

It sounded almost too good to be true. Link's insides screamed for him to get away from this man right away. But after all the ugliness he had seen, Link wanted to believe that genuine kindness still existed in the world. He wanted to believe that someone as rich as this person could want to help young, needy orphans such as them.

Perhaps if he had listened to his instincts, he wouldn't have had to endure what came after.

The man abruptly came very close to Link. He loomed over the boy, and Link felt trapped. Arryn was busy splashing happily in his little tub to notice.

Sensing his trepidation, the man took the liberty of stroking Link's hair.

A jolt of fear that seized Link's body. The smile that Link previously thought was friendly instantly became dark and twisted.

The man then leaned forward and whispered in his ear.

_'You need money, don't you?'_ he said in a deep, low voice. His breath alone enough to make the hairs on the back of Link's neck stand on end.

'_And I have a lot of money.'_

Link thought he was going to be sick. With all his might he shoved the man out of his way. Link felt him grab his hand from behind, but he quickly yanked it out of his grasp.

_'Oh, you're quite strong, aren't you? I like that.'_

Link ignored him and pulled Arryn out of his little tub. As he dried the toddler off and wrapped him in a fresh towel, he noticed that the bathhouse was eerily silent. The other patrons were suddenly focused on cleaning themselves vigorously with their heads down. Did they see what had just happened to Link?

Understanding dawned upon him when he realized that they were purposefully averting their gaze from their section of the bathing hall. They did see, but they ignored it. They were acting as if nothing happened at all.

Link could feel the man laughing at him as he had his back turned. His face burned with embarrassment and anger. He could feel the man mentally disrobing Link of his towel, and it raked him with additional feelings of disgust and self-loathing.

Without another word Link took Arryn and stormed off. He could feel the man still laughing at him as he stormed off.

_'You can always call on me, little one. For you, I'll always be available.'_

People with twisted sexual proclivities got a sick sense of satisfaction out of unnerving their targets. The man turned out being a very rich merchant from the Empire, and had a lot of power. He continued to accost Link in the bathhouse, whispering dirty things and sometimes even groping him.

He knew that Link couldn't afford going to other bathhouses, and he would even pay for his entry in his vile attempts to entice the boy. When Link couldn't stand it anymore he snapped and spat rage at him, but hurling abuse had the opposite effect; he liked it when Link got mad, and it made the eleven-year-old resent him even more.

However, it all stopped when he became a hunter.

Link smiled darkly as he towelled his body dry.

Knowing how to kill was an excellent deterrent.

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Feeling refreshed and recharged from the wonderfully peaceful bath, Link waved Norlan goodbye and departed from the bathhouse. The town was fully awake by now, so he stopped by the grocer to pick up a ready-made quiche before returning home.

As Link entered through the side door, he was met with a wonderful aroma wafting from the kitchen. It could only mean one thing.

_Rowyn, _he smiled, and stepped inside.

Sure enough, there she was busy flipping pancakes in front of the stove. Arryn was at the table too, eagerly awaiting her delicious concoction.

"And here I thought I'd be saving the day with a quiche," Link grinned, kicking off his boots and hanging up his coat.

Rowyn looked over her shoulder and her face lit up at the sight of him.

"Link!" she exclaimed. Powdery blotches of pancake flour were on her chin and brow. "I thought you left for another assignment!"

He shook his head as he went over to her and brushed the flour off her face.

"Not today. But I'm happy you're here. I haven't had pancakes in ages. I'm starving."

She blushed and shooed him away. "Stop that nonsense and go sit down. The pancakes are almost finished."

But Link did not leave her side. He set the quiche on the counter and put his hands upon her shoulders.

"By the way, thank you for that wonderful birthday feast," Link murmured in her ear. "Arryn told me he cooked with you all day."

"Well, you're the only person I know who'd forget his own birthday. You'll work yourself into an early grave!" Rowyn chided Link lightly, but he could feel her shiver when he put his chin near her neck.

"We would've had a party," she continued, trying to ignore Link's wandering hands, "but Arryn didn't know if you would be back and I had to get back to the teahouse. So I made sure you'd at least have something decent to eat."

"Ah, you're too good to me."

Link surprised her by kissing the crook of her jaw. She stifled a gasp as his hands smoothed down her arms and embraced her from behind.

They stayed like that for a while, until Arryn suddenly said:

"I think one of the pancakes is burning."

True enough, it was. Rowyn snapped out of it and quickly scraped the charred flapjack off the griddle.

"Ah! Link, you fiend! Go sit! Now!" she commanded, her face burning.

Link did as he was told, watching Rowyn with a self-satisfied grin as she frantically returned to her cooking.

Rowyn became a part of the orphans' lives roughly around the same time Chief Bradyn had begun training Link. She had just moved to town from the region's outskirts, working as a governess for one of the neighbors. When she heard what had happened to the boys, she made her presence immediately known, stopping by to see how they were doing every couple of days with food and clothing in tow. She was one of the few, if not only, people who helped the two brothers after their parents' passing, much to the displeasure of the superstitious townsfolk, and soon enough she lost her job because of it.

Link felt guilty for that, but Rowyn insisted that she didn't mind at all and proclaimed that she would live and die by that belief that orphans deserved kindness. She basically helped Link raise Arryn, and if it weren't for her, he wouldn't have been able to handle the unpredictable schedule that came with being a hunter. He owed his livelihood to Rowyn, and she was his only friend.

However, these days Link didn't see her around as often, even during his breaks from work. She had to move to the town centre so she could be more available for her new job working in a teahouse. Link wanted her to live here…but such an arrangement, no matter what the circumstances, it would be too scandalous and untoward for the townsfolk's conservative tastes. She was roughly four years older than Link, and now that he was officially a man in Ordon tradition…well, people would talk. And even though he didn't care about them, he worried about her. Rowyn's life was already difficult as it was because of them.

She turned around with a massive stack of pancakes in each hand and set it on the table. Tendrils of steam were still rising from them.

"C'mon, eat them while they're hot."

And so they did. Rowyn's eyes sparkled with amusement as she watched the brothers ravenously devour her work. Link forked half of them on his plate, and Arryn eagerly drenched his in syrup before wolfing his pile down.

"Aren't you going to eat?" Link asked through his stuffed mouth.

She shook her head. "I already had my breakfast."

He swallowed his mouthful and cleared it with a gulp of milk. "Are you working today?"

She shook her head again. "Today's my day off."

"Can you walk with me to school today, Rowyn?" Arryn asked, swallowing first before opening his mouth. Rowyn taught him to have better manners than Link.

"It's Brother's day off too, and I never get to walk with both of you."

Rowyn's bow lips perked in an undecided frown. "I don't know…"

"Come with us," Link urged her. "We can go to the field after, if you'd like."

She stared at Link, as if weighing out whether she should go or not. He gave her his most charming smile, and then she relented.

"Ah, how can I say no when you look at me like that?!" Rowyn threw her hands up in defeat.

Link grinned impishly. "It's a date then."

Her pretty face shined with sly enthusiasm. "I suppose it is."

Link couldn't help the massive smile that formed on his lips.

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Link and Rowyn held each of Arryn's hands as they walked down the grassy main road to the schoolhouse. Arryn was chatting endlessly about what they had been learning, and Rowyn and Link could only murmur feigned interest. It was in these rare moments that Link felt like they were a real family.

After they dropped off Arryn, Link and Rowyn were now free to head for the secluded flowery hillock outside town.

Link had first taken her there when she just lost her governess job. It devastated Rowyn, and Link felt responsible, no matter how many times she insisted that it wasn't. Driven by guilty conscious, Link wanted to make her forget her sadness for even just a moment, so he brought her to his special hideaway. When she laid eyes upon the enclosed knoll of trilliums and white daffodils, Link had never seen her so happy.

Emerging from the thicket, Rowyn surprised Link by running ahead of him. She dashed towards the top of the hill, running like the wind. When she reached the top, she waved at him enthusiastically. A light breeze blew, making her long raven hair flutter across her face. She laughed as she fruitlessly tried to tuck her unruly locks behind her ear and beckoned Link to join her.

Her childish delight was infectious. Link could not help but grin as widely as her, and ran towards the top. When she saw him coming, she picked up her skirts and sprinted to the other side of the meadow. Link went after her with his notorious speed, and Rowyn yelped as he closed in on her. She cried in surprised when he tackled her into a heap of grass and flowers. White petals showered around them, and they settled into Rowyn's inky hair.

Link straddled Rowyn and pinned her hands on the ground. They were both sweaty and panting. Link's gaze was drawn to the flush on her full bosom, and it took every decent fibre of his being to force his eyes to her face. He expected Rowyn to frown and chastise him as she usually did when she caught him leering, but to his pleasant surprise, she was gazing at him with keen interest, her eyes half-lidded and her mouth curled in a wicked smile.

"Aw, shucks. You caught me," she breathed huskily.

This was all too unexpected for Link. Her sudden submissiveness rattled him, and suddenly he didn't know what to do.

In any case, his split second of hesitation cost him.

"Wanna watch the clouds go by?" Rowyn propped herself up on her elbows, and Link backed off.

It occurred to him how indecent they probably looked, so he immediately unpinned her and shifted off her waist.

"Yeah, sure."

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As midday came and went, the two of them laid beside one another in the soft meadow, staring at the voluminous clouds passing by.

He threw a brief look at Rowyn out of the corner of his eye. It was no secret that Link was very fond of her, and it wasn't because of her kindness. With her pretty heart-shaped face, long raven hair and radiant smile, the mere sight of her made him ache with desire. He supposed that it was part of becoming a man, taking keen interest in women and their bodies, but Link only had his eyes for Rowyn. No one else made his heart skip but her.

But she didn't take Link's interest seriously, or at least, he thought so until today. Due to their age differences, she would often shoo away his many advances, saying things like 'he wouldn't want an old hag like her' or that Link was 'just playing around' with her. But he was always very much serious, as he thought she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her beauty wasn't just in her looks, but the sweetness of her disposition and the strength of her character-Link valued those aspects of her above all. Link did not believe something as silly as age should get in the way, so he continued to show little acts of affection until she realized his sincerity.

Perhaps now his sentiments had finally reached her heart, but Link had to make sure…

He inched his hand towards hers and passed his fingertips lightly over her the top of her hand. He was cautious at first, but when she didn't swat his hand away, he proceeded in covering his hand over hers entirely, and caressed her knuckle with his thumb. She returned the gesture by catching his index finger gently and rubbed the edge of it softly.

"I want you to marry me," Link said suddenly.

Rowyn's hand stiffened.

"What?"

Link turned and faced her levelly. "I want you to marry me," he repeated, his tone resolute. "I'm going to become a True Hunter soon. I know it. Then I can provide for you and Arryn. You wouldn't have to work anymore. You could be free to live the life you want and you'd be able to live closer…with us. Me, you and Arryn…" he gulped and his voice shrunk softly, "we could all be a proper family."

There, he said it. He had wanted to for months but he could never summon the nerve. There was no right moment for laying her heart bare to another person. There just wasn't.

Admittedly, his confession could've been done with a little more finesse.

For a while, Rowyn didn't say anything. Link turned his head to the side and looked at her profile. Her gaze remained firmly fixed to the sky.

"Wouldn't you be embarrassed by me?" she asked quietly.

"Why would I be embarrassed by you?"

"Link…I have no people. I'm a lone woman. And I'm much _older_ than you."

"You say those things as if they matter to me. They don't. Not a whit."

"But you're still young," she protested. "You're not going to feel like this forever. You're going to grow older and become even more handsome than you are now. Then you'll grow tired of me, and then—"

"I don't want anyone else. Not now, not ever," Link said with such fierce passion that made Rowyn flinch. His tone softened and he explained.

"Rowyn, this isn't because I feel indebted to you for everything you've done for me and Arryn. I mean-I am grateful, but this is different. What I _feel_ for you is different. You're the only person to treat me like a normal person. When I'm with you, I forget everything that's happened to me. I can be myself around you because..."

He gripped her hand.

"I love you, Rowyn."

That's when she finally turned to face him. Her hazel eyes were glistening, and her lips were trembling.

She put her hand over Link's.

"I…I love you too, Link. I love you so very much."

Link was overwhelmed with so much emotion he could hardly keep his voice steady.

"Then, will you wait for me?" His voice was barely above a whisper.

She nodded.

"I…I want to spent the rest of my life with you."

"Rowyn..."

Link couldn't describe the feeling that descended over him. It was an intoxicating feeling of warmth that enveloped him from the burning ache he has been nursing whenever he thought of her. It possessed him body, mind and soul, and he wanted nothing more than to be a part of her. He _yearned_ for her.

Link was acutely aware that she was pressing her breasts against him. He felt her lean into him, brushing her lips against neck and nuzzling her face into his hair. He combed her hair aside and stroked her temple. She gazed at him with her lips slightly ajar and her eyes searching his face for something. Rowyn was so close he could feel her warm breath escape those full lips and caress his face...

Link reached for Rowyn, lacing his fingers through her thick hair, and brought his lips down upon hers.

The quickening of her heartbeat, the rising heat from her skin, the scent of her hair… He could feel her nails dig into his shoulders as he deepened the kiss. The knowledge that she felt the same passionate desire for him only spurred him.

_So soft, so sweet_, Link thought, as shifted his hard body atop hers. They were lost in each other's embrace, their hands exploring each other's bodies with abandon.

Being with Rowyn now… Link could forget about all his worries, all his troubles, all his pain. Feeling her…it felt pure and so natural. Being inside her...Link did not think he would ever experience such wondrous ecstasy.

Until now, Link truly believed that his life would be forever dark, full of hatred, toil and suffering.

After everything he had endured, was he not allowed to feel a moment's joy?

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_chapter 1-fin_

_-reviews, thoughts and observations are most welcome._

_-I will endeavour to update every month, two at the latest, with chapter sizes similar to this one._

_-love, z.m._


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

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Standing in front of the council of Elders was always a nerve-wracking experience.

Link sat cross-legged in the waiting room, doing his best to keep his wits about him. But his thoughts kept straying to his fiancée, and he would suddenly feel heat rising on his cheeks.

_Focus, Link. _He would have all the time in the world to be with Rowyn _after_ the meeting that decided the fate of his career.

Dressed in the green ceremonial garb of the hunter, Link fought the urge to rake his fingers through his hair. Rowyn had spent all morning combing his light locks and binding it with a hair tie. She said it would make it look more mature. Link hoped it would make a difference. She seemed to think so.

The separating door slid open. It was one of the Guild assistants.

"The esteemed Elders will see you now."

Link swallowed thickly, and briskly nodded. He stood up and straightened his collar before following the assistant inside.

The Elders' Chamber was a large circular room with a dais before an elevated desk. The five Elders of the Hunter's Guild were present, and Link could feel their eyes watch him closely as he slowly made his way to the dais. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Chief Bradyn-unmistakeable with his glowing tanned skin, massive grin and the great silvery braid he had wrapped around his formidable shoulders.

Link's mentor smiled at him, and the youth returned the gesture.

"State your name and rank," commanded Elder Farlan, wiping the smile off Link's face. She was the only female on the Elder council and was known for being the most stringent of assessors.

"My name is Link. Senior Hunter," he answered. He made sure to keep his voice neutral; neither arrogant nor meek, but solemnly respectful.

"Senior Hunter Link, you are here today because you think are you ready to become a True Hunter, correct?" Elder Horland queried. He was the youngest Elder in the council, and Owlan's fraternal twin brother. Link hoped that his supervisor's sterling recommendation would work in his favour, especially with Horland.

"That is correct, esteemed Elders."

"And what makes a feckless child such as you worthy of such a noble title?"

Link was caught off-guard by the amount of vitriol laced in the question. It was directed at him from Midan, an Elder he had heard of but luckily never had the displeasure of meeting. His nasty smile did not reach the dark, narrow slits that were his eyes.

Link fought the urge to turn his nose up at him in belligerence.

"While I do not think you are a feckless child, I too am curious," quipped Maika as he took a long, casual puff of his pipe. His watery eyes twinkled with sharp intelligence.

Link decided to answer Maika instead, but Chief Bradyn decided to speak up.

"With all due respect, Maika and Midan, Link has the most impressive track record in the history of this guild's inception. I believe that Midan is upset that a boy has broken his record as the youngest Senior Hunter ever. Isn't that right, Midan?" Bradyn winked.

Midan, however, was livid but snapped his mouth shut as the rest of the Elders laughed at his expense.

"Ah, but I do believe I am mistaken. Link is not only a man now, but an engaged one too, correct?" Bradyn's smile widened. "Congratulations are in order!"

"Thank you, Chief," Link bowed slightly, keeping his sight trained on his mentor. He suppressed the smile that tugged at the corners of his lips.

Bradyn rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he moved to address the other Elders in general.

"I have been monitoring Link's progress ever since the beginning and I have no doubt that he is ready to become a True Hunter," Bradyn boomed confidently. "He may be young, but he has been the sole caretaker of his brother since childhood. I would argue that maturity is not an issue-I can admit that he is more down-to-earth than myself, and I have four decades on him! Why, I didn't even think of settling down until I was at least forty, and we all know how that turned out!"

When the laughter at the table subsided, Bradyn continued, "In light of this, I heartily give the required Elder recommendation for Link's promotion to the rank of True Hunter."

"Thank you for your words, Chief Bradyn. They are always appreciated for their...comedic quality," Farlan, while handsome, had a severe edge to her face that was sharp enough to cut steel. "However, while I agree that Senior Hunter Link's work is astounding, it is only so because of his youth." Farlan spared Link a cursory glance. "To maintain the integrity of this Guild, I'm afraid your student must prove that he is a cut above the rest of his peers to deserve the promotion. His Final Proof will have to be above-average."

The rest of the Elders, barring Bradyn, murmured in agreement.

"If he is the prodigal hunter we've all been waiting for as Chief Bradyn claims, then his Final Proof should be the retrieval of something that has eluded hunters for generations," Midan proposed. He bared his rotting teeth in a twisted grin, "He should find the Sword of Rebirth."

The council fell silent.

It felt like a rock dropped into the pit of Link's stomach. A knot developed in his throat that tightened with every passing second of silence.

"Explain yourself Midan," Farlan's voice was full of warning.

"I just think it is a fine way to see if the lad is worthy," the scraggly, beady-eyed Elder continued nonchalantly, ignoring her pointed stares as best he could.

"But," Horland's cultured voice echoed forcefully in the hall, "is that not extreme? The sword of our great ancestor has been missing since the end of the War of Ascension." His frown deepened. "It would an astonishing feat, even for a True Hunter."

"I merely suggested a way to please both Bradyn and Farlan," said Midan. "I can't think of anything else that would make the other Senior Hunters, who have been vying for that coveted position since this boy was still sucking at his mother's teat, accept his promotion over theirs. Of course, we could choose something else if Chief Bradyn does not believe that the boy is up to it. We can make his Final Proof a little more...pedestrian."

For the first time, Bradyn's smile fell.

"If there is anyone capable for the task, it is Link," he growled.

"Then I take it you endorse with Elder Midan's suggestion?" Farlan asked Bradyn. When the Chief didn't answer right away, her lips thinned and her brow arched in a stern manner.

The Chief nodded briskly. "I do."

"Then, in light of your endorsement, I also vote in favour of Elder Midan," Farlan announced.

"As do I," chirped Maika. "This will be interesting, indeed!"

Horland, though reluctant, was forced to give his blessing.

"Then it is unanimous. In order for Senior Hunter Link to attain the rank of True Hunter, he must bring retrieve the Sword of Rebirth as his Final Proof."

Horland struck the gravel to conclude the session.

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It was as if his entire body had been stricken with tetanus-he could barely move, much less speak. The knot that developed in his throat earlier remained, and Link's fists were so tight he was sure he had drawn blood.

As the other Elders left the Council Hall, Bradyn and Horland stayed behind. They exchanged concerned glances, and then Horland leaned forward and gave Link a considerate grip on his shoulder.

"Link, you do understand that this is in no way mandatory? You can take as long as you like to think this over. Perhaps you'd like to discuss this with your loved ones?" He heaved a short sigh and added, "There is no penalty in declining the Final Proof, and you wouldn't be the first one."

"Horland is right. You can take as long as you need," Bradyn agreed. He had been Link's mentor since he was a recruit; it had been blind pride that made him accept what he believed to be a challenge from Midan so readily. He regretted it now. "There's no time limit to accept-"

"I'll do it," Link whispered fiercely. He looked up at them, his pale blue eyes burning with intensity.

"I don't have the luxury to doubt myself. I have a sick brother who needs expensive medicine and a beautiful woman I promised to marry. I cannot delay this promotion any longer."

Link's gaze fell to his hands, the tips of his fingernails red with blood. "I'll find the Sword of Rebirth and prove myself worthy of True Hunter. I'll do whatever it takes, even if I die trying." He had been striving for too long-it didn't matter what they made him do, Link would rise to the occasion. He'd do it for Arryn...and now, for Rowyn as well. He owed this opportunity to them, and he'd be damned if he passed it up.

The Elders were well aware of the stubborn passion radiating off of the young hunter. Bradyn especially-he had seen that expression too many times during their training sessions. It was a look of visceral determination, of an unrelenting will that resisted succumbing that made Link different from everyone. He had the unyielding spirit of a warrior.

Bradyn's regret was overcome by his pride in a stubborn lad who turned into the formidable man right before his eyes. "Then godspeed, Link. When you return, I shall organize the wedding myself."

Link didn't expect that. "Chief-" he raised his voice in protest, but Bradyn silenced him.

"No, no. I won't hear it. What kind of mentor would I be if I didn't step up? And if you're worried about me messing it up, Horland and Owland will be there to help me, won't you?"

"Of course we will. This dolt wouldn't know how to officiate a ceremony if his stupid braid depended on it." Horland gave the stunned hunter a bow with a warm twinkle in his eye. "Let that be our gift to you, Link. Not as Elders, but as fellow tribesmen. We believe in you, and we have the utmost confidence that you will succeed."

Link had to clench his jaw tightly as emotion threatened to overwhelm him. All of his life he had lived to never expect kindness from others; even Bradyn's willingness to be his mentor could've been seen as the Chief's duty to be charitable to orphans-as a way to show the townspeople by example. But Link had never expected any more than that.

For not just Bradyn, but Horland to do something like this...it added to the weight of significance of Rebirth's retrieval.

But it was a burden that Link would gladly bear.

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Link kept his head down as he pulled his gauntlets on. He had to make sure that they were fitted properly. There is nothing worse than going on a mission with loose gauntlets.

"Link, please tell me you're not actually going. It's too dangerous…!"

Was his armour strapped tightly enough? He double-checked that there weren't any loose straps. A mere millimetre of protection sometimes meant the difference between a scratch and a fatal arterial laceration.

"…I mean it! You don't have to do this! I don't mind working double shifts to pay for the wedding…"

Did the trip mechanism for his arm-shield have proper kickback? He checked the pressure gauge, and it seemed to be within the acceptable elasticity limit.

"…And what if something happens to you? Are you going to leave me and Arryn alone? Link, are you even listening to me? Link? Link!"

Was he missing anything? He had his hunter's knife, a dagger, a map…wait, was his utility pouch fully stocked? He had to check-

"LINK!" Rowyn snapped loudly in his ear.

"Rowyn, can't you see that I'm in the middle of something?!"

Link instantly regretted his outburst. She flinched and fell silent. He didn't mean to yell at her like that, but he was admittedly on edge.

After pouring over the stacks of ancient tomes and hunter logbooks in the Guild Library, Link had finally found a clue to where Rebirth was hidden. True, the clue he was going to follow was over five hundred years-old and written in an obscure, frayed logbook, but it was the only solid lead Link could find after three months.

He kept no secrets from his beloved. When he found out that the clue specifically mentioned the Sacred Forest, he relayed to her his plan. He had with him a tattered old map of the area found in the unnamed hunter's journal after all. All he had to do was check out the clue and, if it was bogus, he would leave. It would be easy since he knew exactly what he was doing.

Of course, Rowyn was against his plan. Vociferously so.

He didn't blame her. The Sacred Forest was no place for a human to venture in at all, much less alone. A vast thicket, home to wild, carnivorous beasts rumoured to retain their gigantic proportions from the ancient times, the Sacred Forest was a part of the country that no sane person ever went close to. Entering usually meant sure-death.

But Link was determined. He spent weeks meticulously planning for this day, gathering as much information on the uncharted area as he could and stocking necessary equipment. New armour, a pouch filled with the latest gadgets and specialized foot effects he designed himself—he was prepared for anything. After all the years of struggling, he wouldn't—couldn't—let one obstacle get in the way of his dreams, even if it was finding a mythical sword no hunter before him ever succeeded in locating.

He'd find that damned sword, become a True Hunter, and live happily with Arryn and Rowyn.

If only his beloved would understand.

Link sighed. He embraced her gently, careful so that his armour wouldn't hurt her, and stroked her hair.

"I'm sorry, Rowyn."

She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed Link deeply. It took Link by surprise, but he gratefully went along with it.

When she disengaged, she cupped his face in both her hands and looked at him in the eye. Her gaze was fierce and determined.

"I love you so much Link and I don't want to lose you. But I know that look. You won't stop, even if I beg, will you?"

"Rowyn…"

She shook her head and continued, albeit her voice was shaky.

"It-it's alright. I'll take of Arryn until you come back. Just promise me that you'll come back to safe."

Rowyn stroked Link's cheek softly as fresh tears trickled from her almond-shaped eyes.

"Promise me."

Her emotion shook Link to the core of his being. He swallowed thickly, and then nodded.

"I promise I'll come back."

"Safe," she corrected forcefully.

He let out a dry laugh.

"I promise I'll come back _safe_. Happy?"

Rowyn nodded stiffly as she wiped at her tears and sniffed, "It'll do."

"Besides," Link's hands descended onto Rowyn's hips, and then shifted back. He grinned at her impishly. "Who wouldn't come back for this?" He gave her a playful squeeze.

Rowyn broke out in a tearful laugh. "You savage wolf!" She swatted at him, and he dodged.

"Go on, get! If you get yourself killed, I'll never forgive you-ah!"

But instead of leaving, Link held Rowyn's hands fast, forced her against the wall, and covered her mouth in a fierce kiss. It was so sweet, so tantalizing that it made her knees weak, but just as soon as it came, it ended. He whispered something in her ear that literally took her breath away.

When she opened her eyes, he was gone.

Rowyn stared at the spot that Link had occupied, stunned. She was only aware of the tingling of her lips and the wild hammering in her chest.

His words echoed in her mind, like a sweet memory.

"_I love you."_

Rowyn suddenly felt something stir deep within her belly, and kick her sharply.

.

.

.

.

Rowyn left the town medical clinic feeling elated and nervous. She secured her bonnet and shifted her basket onto a more comfortable position on her forearm before setting off into the street.

Weaving through the hustle and bustle of midtown Ordon, Rowyn's mind wandered. It was if she was watching someone else operate her body, choosing the vegetables, buying the meat and picking up Arryn's medicine from the chemist. Was she in a dream? Would she wake up and find herself back in that wretched place she once called home, back to the horror of living in hell?

No, when Rowyn was roughly shoved by a passer-by, she thankfully realized that this was all real. She was going to marry Link. And-her hand briefly brushed against her belly-she was going to be a mother!

_I'm going to bear the child of my husband…_she could hardly believe those words even in her mind. Rowyn wanted to scream and jump up for joy, for that is how much her heart swelled—the excitement threatened to burst from her entire being.

Rowyn fished out the house key from her purse and unlocked the door. Her heeled boots echoed loudly on the hardwood floors. With Arryn at school, Rowyn realized that she was all alone. It was so strange not having Link meandering about. He had been a mainstay in the house ever since his research began on his final assignment, and with him insisting on Rowyn moving in now that they were engaged, it was even stranger to not have him warm their bed. She glanced at the thin golden band on her left ring finger and smiled. Link insisted that he'd buy her another one, a better one that was worthy of her when he became a True Hunter.

If he only knew how much she treasured this one.

_Oh Link_, Rowyn sighed and unloaded the rest of the groceries onto the kitchen table. He never asked her about her past. He never pried, or prodded. He just let Rowyn be.

_Link is the only person to love me for who I am_. Her eyes watered whenever she thought of him.

The grandfather clock in the living room rang. Rowyn looked to her watch, and it was time to pick up Arryn from school.

.

.

"Rowyn!" young Arryn's face lit up happily as he ran to embraced her. The other children poured from the schoolhouse, reuniting with their parents and caregivers.

Rowyn ignored the stares the parents and teachers were giving her. Sometimes she would hear them whisper things like '_whore', _'_slut' _or, on the odd occasion '_succubus_', as she walked by. People made all sorts of assumptions about her ever since she came to Ordon by herself, so it didn't bother her anymore. But their words made her sad and angry for Arryn's sake, as he undoubtedly heard it too. Yet the young boy remained upbeat all the same. She playfully swung their clasped hands as they ambled down the field, and Arryn flashed a wide grin.

Such a strong, clever boy.

"Rowyn you look very pretty today," Arryn remarked.

"Oh, you think so?" Rowyn smiled. "That's sweet of you to say."

Arryn's platinum blond locks bounced as he nodded vigorously. "It's like there's a light shining from your face!"

He paused, and a tiny, embarrassed smile formed on his pale lips. "Is it because you're happy being with us?"

"Of course I am!" Rowyn ruffled his hair with a chuckle. The boy was much more observant than she gave him credit for, that was for sure. "What do you want to eat with your medicine today?"

Arryn's nose wrinkled in disgust. "Owh! Do I have to keep taking that yucky medicine? I don't want it anymore!"

"Arryn," there was a hint of reprimand in her tone, "you know what the doctor said. The medicine keeps you healthy."

"But the other kids don't have to take it," he replied in a grumble. "Why am I the only one who's sick?"

"Oh sweetie," Rowyn pressed his face into her skirt affectionately. He looked up at her, his frown deepening. His condition caused him great distress and Rowyn could relate to his feelings of bitterness and isolation. "It won't be forever, I promise. You'll see, you just have to wait a little, and have faith."

"Faith?"

Arryn stopped in his tracks. He looked at her questioningly.

"What is 'faith'?"

Rowyn's brows sprung up in surprise. She was about to say 'Didn't your parents teach you…?' but then she snapped her mouth shut.

After a brief mental blank, Rowyn knelt down so her gaze could be level with the eight-year-old. "Sometimes things happen to us that are out of our control. Faith is when you believe and trust that things will work out for the better, even in the worst situations." She didn't know how else to explain it simply to young Arryn.

He didn't look placated. "What does Rowyn believe in?"

She didn't expect him to ask her something so personal outright like that. But she supposed this was as good a time as any.

"I don't know for sure Arryn," Rowyn replied honestly, "I think there must be something bigger that what we can imagine out there looking after us. After all, I never thought I would have a family, but here I am—with you and Link. Whoever or whatever it is, they guided me here and now I'm very happy."

Arryn chewed on his lip in thought. His eyes seemed to be focused. "I think I understand." He looked up at Rowyn with a sad smile. "After what happened to Mum and Dad…Brother was sad all the time. He would tell me he was alright, but I could tell he wasn't OK. I wished upon every single star for Brother to be happy, and then you came!" His smile brightened."So if I do the same thing with my sickness, one day it will go away too?"

Rowyn nodded. "That's right, kiddo. One day." She lightly flicked Arryn's nose. "All you have to do is believe."

She stood up and offered him her hand. He gladly took and ambled down the field with a bounce it his step.

It broke Rowyn's heart to deceive him so.

.

.

.

Link jumped from tree branch to tree branch, careful to land on the soft padding of his bearskin socks. His hung his boots around his neck the laces, as the heavy soles would cause too much of a ruckus. As he was now inside the heart of the Sacred Forest, it was crucial that he remained undetected.

Here, the trees were so large that their combined branches and leaves left little light passing through. It was if he was in an immensely dim room with swaying leaves as its ceiling and lush undergrowth as its floor. The only problem was this room was home to creatures that could probably kill Link with a single swipe.

Except Link found the nature of the beasts inhabiting the Forest to be strange; he expected them to be the un-evolved versions of the comparatively tame creatures in Ordon proper, but Link had been terribly wrong—especially in the case of one species, the wolves.

Taking breaks from his fruitless quest, Link would spend a couple of hours every day monitoring the daily goings-on in the habitat. It was essential for every hunter in unfamiliar territory to understand the primal pecking order. It became clear that the wolves were at the top of the Forest's food chain from the way the other animals interacted with them. They were smarter and more organized than the rest of the beasts, in the chillingly precise manner they carried out their pack duties and how they hunted in military formations. Their giant white-backed leader had sentinel wolves placed in the four primary compass directions at all times. When one grew hungry, another wolf would come to take its place. Their level of intelligence unnerved Link.

As much as he wanted to venture into their territory, he didn't fancy getting ripped to bloody shreds just to slake his curiosity. So long as Link remained outside the pack's territory he would be fine.

Link huddled within the hollow of a tree and unfurled the map. He looked around and clucked his tongue softly in frustration. There was no way to know if he was going in the right direction. The fool of the hunter who marked this map was vague indeed.

'_To the Lost Forest of Holy Origin_

_Within the chamber which Time cannot sully…'_

The rest was in some coded language Link could not understand. He thought he might be able to work out the cryptic scribbling in the margin once he scoured the area, but it was impossible! He had been searching inside the Sacred Forest for days, and there was no sign of any building or cove of any kind!

No…this kind of defeatist thinking would not do—Link refused to leave until he found that damned relic! He decided that perhaps he needed to risk it and climb to the top of one of the trees to get a better overlay of the area. Unless he wanted to stay here overnight again and run the ever-present risk of letting the prowling giant wolves devour him, Link had no other choice.

He looked up the main shaft of the tree he was currently on. After a few feet, there were no branches to use for scaling. Should he use his razor claws? No, it would cause undue noise and shake the branches too much. He made that mistake yesterday and a horde of killer wasps chased him for hours.

After reaching the last study branch, Link summoned all his nerve and sprinted up the main tree trunk. _Almost there_, Link grimaced. He had only a few meters left before breaking through the canopy. Only a little more…

When he went for the last step, his foot bare grazed the bark. He was losing too much momentum! Quickly, Link fished out a dagger and pinned it to the tree. Thankfully, his last-ditch effort didn't cause a major disturbance. He risked a glance down, and let out a bottled up sigh. That would've been a long way down.

Hauling himself to the top of the tree, Link wrapped his legs around the trunk and surveyed the expansive forest. He wasn't high enough to see the entire area, but he did spot a nearby grassy cliff. It seemed deserted, so that place would be his best bet.

_Anywhere but here would be better, _Link admitted to himself.

.

.

The cliff was much higher than Link anticipated. He probably should have, as it took a good portion of his afternoon reaching it. The air was much thinner here, and the sun was much more intense. It would be best for him to make his surveying quick and leave; he was not in the mood for altitude sickness.

Just as Link passed the last turn leading to the top of the cliff, he thought he heard something. His hand immediate went atop his hunter's blade. There was nothing around him save for grass and rock.

It was when moving shadows blotted out the light around him that Link looked up.

Circling above him like a flock of vultures were the distinct forms of harpies.

Even with his prodigal skill, a harpy was not to be trifled with. They were so large that Link had read hunter accounts of merchant horses being plucked away. Their plated beaks and talons were arguably the sharpest thing in the world, and their claws were strong enough to crush human bones to dust.

One of the harpies let out an ear splitting cry. It was soul-shattering and paralysing. Link's entire body seized up. He knew that they used their voices as a method of subduing their prey before swooping in for the kill.

_I. Can't. Die. Here!_

Link managed to stab himself in the thigh with his dagger. The shock of pain freed Link from the harpy's death-bind in the nick of time. As their deadly talons almost made contact, he dove out of reach. He crumpled to the ground, but he forced himself up and ran to the edge of the cliff. Before the harpies could regain their bearings, Link jumped.

He tumbled through the air, his hair whipping his eyes and face. Link need to steady himself or else he'd become a bloody splatter on the ground.

Link fumbled inside his utility pouch and fished out a packet with a cord. There was never an occasion where he needed to use a parachute, but this time was as damned good as any.

He hooked his finger around the ring and pulled the damned thing.

Nothing happened.

_Come on, come on!_

Link desperately tried to grab the cord again. It kept slipping out of his grasp!

The forest was getting perilously closer, and Link was starting to panic. He fumbled with the cord, and yanked it with all his might.

The fabric ballooned above him, but it was too late—Link was too close to the ground for the parachute to catch a draft.

The fall was probably the single most painful experience in Link's life. He shielded his face while in descent, but his body was being battered with heavy branches snapping upon impact. His parachute finally snagged on a treetop, and it jerked Link to a stop.

Link lowered his arms and wheezed. He dared to open his eyes, and groaned. He was currently hanging over the edge of a lone branch, and directly below him was what looked like moss covered ruins.

Success! But it would mean nothing if Link broke his back.

"Alright Link," he whispered to himself, "all you have to do is stay absolutely still and reach—"

A loud ripping noise sounded. Link froze. He dared to look up and groaned. The gash was getting bigger, as the tearing sound became louder. He scrambled to climb the harness and reached to grab the branch—and he was only a few inches away—then the fabric gave way.

Link plummeted into the depths of the ruins, the jutting slab of the stone ceiling colliding with his arm as he fell. Miraculously, he landed upon a soft plot of grass—the only dirt section within the musty building.

Pain raked his body, and Link didn't want to get up from the dirt bed he was lying on. Sighing, he knew that with a fall like that, it would be best if he assessed himself first. Straining to sit up, he observed a couple of cracked ribs, a wounded thigh and an arm that needed immediate medical attention. It wasn't broken, but he knew that he had dislocated something. He set the shoulder back into its socket and winced. Astonishingly, that was his only pressing injury, and he had just jumped off a cliff spanning over three hundred feet with a malfunctioning parachute.

For once, Link counted himself lucky.

Link surveyed the area. The forest sought to reclaim the stone ruins, with plant life growing on almost every surface. Moss and ivy decorated the begrimed walls, and from the opening in the ceiling light poured in. A great tree sprouted from the centre of the area and it seemed that one of its growing limbs was responsible for the break in the ceiling.

But he didn't have the luxury in admiring the antiquity of the view as a chilling howl echoed in the ruins.

Link's heart race increased exponentially. _This place…couldn't be…?_ Link traced the origin of the howl to the collapsed pillar blocking the primary exit. There was barking and distinct sound of heavy scratches on the other side of the stone double door. The sounds suddenly stopped-only to be replaced with heavy thudding. The thudding grew stronger and louder as the pillar began to move. Link's body seized with panic when he caught sight of a wolf's maw between the door's spasms.

Link's instinct to desperately survive overrode all rational thought. He clawed at the the moss covering the walls, hoping to find some kind of passage. He threw a quick glance over his shoulder and then immediately wished he hadn't: the wolves were almost inside, having pushing the pillar enough to start wiggling through. Link's heart flipped as he continued ripping moss, until he found what looked like a engraved door. Fearing for his shoulder but realizing the alternative would be certain death, Link pushed against the stone with all his might.

Just when he was feeling that his efforts were in vain, the door began to respond. Elated, Link kept at it with vigor until it was open enough for him to shimmy through and shut it behind him.

It was as if time stood still in this chamber. It looked nothing like the derelict ruins outside. The stained glass windows were perfectly preserved and the intricately carved marble unblemished. Everything was stark and hazy at the same time, like a dream. The very fabric of Link's existence was rippling.

_Within the chamber which Time cannot sully…_

Link continued into the altar room. At the very center was an upright casket bound by hundreds of heavy-linked steel chains suspended from the upper walls. Link stepped closer to it. The chains wrapped around it the length of it and were decorated with tags bearing symbols in an ancient language Link did not recognize.

Within the creases of the casket, something glowed. A quiet power resonated from within the casket, and Link was drawn to it.

As soon as Link's finger grazed the surface of the casket, his body was seized by an unspeakable pressure. He could feel something tugging at the periphery of his consciousness. Link tried to resist the prodding, but it only intensified until his mind snapped into a thousand pieces.

A million memories rushed through his mind's eye. He saw places he had never been to, people he had never seen and creatures so horrific they were beyond the pale imaginings of nightmares.

_What in the world…_

Link watched the series of events in wonder. The rational part of him suggested him that he should run, but his instincts commanded him to stay. The dissonance between his mind and heart caused the hunter to teeter between madness and elation.

The bombardment of visions continued, the sheer amount threatening to overwhelm his consciousness. These were the memories of what must've been countless lifetimes, but strangely it all felt like it was through the eyes of the same person. How was this possible? It didn't make any sense.

Then, the memories ceased.

Link strained to look through the haze of pain clouding his vision.

There was utter silence. Suddenly, the seals fluttered from the chains, and the heavy metal links came apart one by one in a stream of metallic clattering.

When the last link of the chain fell, the casket slowly creaked open.

Resting within the padded silken cushions was the most magnificent weapon of destruction Link had ever laid his eyes upon. The dark violet hilt and pommel resembled with majestic wings spread to the sky, symmetrical and precise in its design. The massive blade's edge glowed dangerously. It looked sharp enough to slice open a finger should a curious fool dare to run his finger along it. Beside it was an elaborate scabbard, damask with gold. The patterns were so intricate and complex that it made even the finest crafts from the Empire look shoddy in comparison.

_Is this…Rebirth?_

It was beautiful in its deadliness, a sword of radiant splendour that demanded nothing less than glory.

Link cautiously picked up the wondrous weapon and inspected it. His reflection on the blade's surface was crystal clear save for the thin distortion along the edge. So this was the sword of legend, wielded by the ancient founder of the Hunters, that had been lost since his death and no hunter could find for generations. How it remained perfectly preserved for the last millennia was a mystery.

And now the glory of finding Rebirth belonged to Link. A triumphant smirk formed on his lips. He couldn't wait to see the look on Midan's face.

A crash outside the altar room snapped Link out of his self-serving reverie. Awfully unnatural, high-pitched screams sounded, barely muffled by the thick stone door.

_Damned birds_, Link cursed. They don't give up, do they?

He quickly looked around, and sucked at his teeth in vexation. There was no other way to leave except through that door. Slinging the scabbard over his shoulder and tightening it, Link held Rebirth fast. It felt vaguely nostalgic, though he never wielded a sword of Rebirth's size, it just felt natural in his grasp.

Link approached the door slowly and pressed his ear against it. The wolves and the harpies…they were fighting one another? No, he didn't hear the sound of any scuffles. Just barking and shrieking. Arguing? Link risked opening the door by a sliver and he peered outside.

The scene was certainly a surprising sight. The white-backed wolf leader, backed by his pack members, was snapping and snarling at the harpies that were perched on the crumbling edge of the broken ceiling. The great white-back looked in Link's direction. Link froze, and his grip on the sword tightened. The white-back's eyes narrowed, and then it turned its attention back to the harpies. It growled something in finality, and then turn away, beckoning the others wolves to follow.

Link watched in astonishment as the wolves fell back. His gaze went back to the harpies, who ruffled their feathers and made themselves comfortable. Just as Link was going to praise his good luck for the wolves' departure, more winged predators descended into the ruins.

_Great, they brought their friends along as well_.

Link closed his eyes and attempted to formulate a strategy that didn't involve getting maimed, gored or feasted on. It wouldn't do charge at them all at once. He had to find a way to isolate each of them, neutralize their flying ability and then eliminate them swiftly. Link checked inside his utility pouch, and saw that he only had one stun bomb left.

_Time to make it work_, Link steeled himself, gripped Rebirth and pushed the door fully open.

The harpies perched on the broken ceiling's edge squawked immediately when he stepped through the door, alerting the flying ones of his presence. The one of the three from before immediately paused in midflight, turning to him and letting out an ear-splitting scream before swooping in, talons exposed.

Link sprinted out of the paralyzing cry's range to the other side of the ruins, and slid under a toppled pillar. The oncoming harpy didn't have enough time to reduce momentum; Link heard its talons drive deep into the stone column. It beat its wings against the rock, trying to free itself, screeching for its comrades to help it. The other harpies merely watched as Link lifted Rebirth above his head and cut the pillar and harpy in half.

For a moment, Link's slash had no effect. The harpy stuck in the rock moved to free its talons once more, but, as if time had sped up, the harpy and the pillar exploded in a flurry of blood, dust and crumbled stone.

Link was stunned. He did not realize what he had done; his plan was instantly usurped by something else. It was quick and sudden, like a reflex. He looked down at the sword in his grasp; there was not even a scratch on it, and he had just cut through solid stone as if it had been made of grass.

The harpies were in no such awestruck mood. When they realized one of their own was slaughtered, they wailed and moaned in sorrow. Their mournful cries then turned to angry hisses and war screams, and then all rose to attack Link. The beasts of the sky charged at the hunter, who was still busy taking in what he had just done to one of their brood.

However, just as the most wrathful hawk descended upon Link—the deadly tips of its talons a mere arms-span away—it burst in a squall of gore and blood. The other three harpies to the fallen one's right were too blinded by fury to stop their murderous charge. A swift movement passed before their vision, and then one of them saw its world twisting around. By the time the harpy saw its body falling to the ground, the harpy's world went black. The other two shared the same fate.

The two remaining harpies snapped out of their rage after witnessing three of their own felled by a single strike. The natural instinct of survival overrode their need to avenge the fallen, so they sought to fly away. But no such quarter would be given to them. As soon as the harpies neared the salvation that was the broken ceiling, their hope was dashed away when Link ran up the length of the great tree and leap with sword in hand. Their bodies were severed in vicious swing. Four bloody segments fell to the musty ground in a mangled heap.

It was in the tranquil silence of the ruins that Link's lucidity returned. He glanced at the carnage that he caused as if it had been a matter of course, and not the effective slaughtering of winged killer birds, a single one more deadly than all the gyornbulls in the world combined.

Is this what power felt like? Link gripped Rebirth. It felt like an extension of his body; handling it was as effortless as balling his hand into a fist. He gazed at the weapon and watched as the blood splattered on the blade hissed and evaporated, the sword emitting a strange, bluish glow. Rebirth reverberated in his grasp. It wanted more.

_This sword…was made for killing_…

A rustling wind passed outside and tree blossoms fell from the sky. The pale light of the sun made the petals glow and sparkle like starlight.

As he closed his eyes and let the soft flowers shower around him and caress his face, a single thought echoed from deep within the crevasses of Link's consciousness.

_Or maybe I was made for the sword…?_

.

.

.

Bradyn was not a man made for sitting.

He probably should have thought of that when he agreed to become both the Chief of Ordon _and _an Elder of the Hunter's Guild. He supposed that with his age nearing sixty, he would do well to start slowing down. Still, his heart yearned to be out in the wild, with the scent of the forest on him and a sharp blade in hand.

Bradyn should have been paying attention to his assistant, who had been standing at his side for the last half-hour, listing off various memorandums and handing him documents requiring signatures. It was all so tedious. He feigned interest as he lazily scribbled his initials.

His thoughts wandered to Link.

He felt a pang of guilt whenever he thought of the youth. He had been…overconfident in his hot-blooded agreement with Midan. It was approval made in the heat of the moment; Bradyn vehemently disapproved of the way the people treated Link and his younger brother. He had thought that since the unification of Hyrule, progress would have been made in their understanding; perhaps it would take Ordon longer to catch up with the rational mindset of the rest of the world. Unfortunately, their treatment of the orphans illustrated how much the Ordonim still sadly clung to superstition.

"Chief, I'm going to come back tomorrow. Please try to be more engaged by then," Maelyn sighed and packed up her things. Bradyn only spared her a weak wave as she departed and shut the office door.

Bradyn pulled out a flask of rum he had hidden in his desk and eased into his chair. He wished Link let him help with the research, but the stubborn lad insisted on doing it alone. He had been that way ever since Bradyn met the boy; he was not social by any means, though considering the circumstances he couldn't blame Link. Bradyn remembered the shock he felt when he discovered the boy's story, and the shame. What was the point of being the leader of Ordon if he wasn't aware of those who needed help the most? However resilient young Link was, his relief was visible when Bradyn stepped up to help the lad. But he wouldn't accept handouts-Link wanted to earn his living, and Bradyn respected the boy for that.

What attracted Bradyn to Link in the first place was his phenomenal skill. Never had he seen anyone so adept in both physical combat and tactical expertise. The story of the boy recruit who could best grown men in combat spread like wildfire within the guild, intriguing the Elder. He attended the training session of the aspiring hunters and was blown away by Link's obvious talent.

But there was something in the boy that made Bradyn uneasy; it first became apparent by the way he mercilessly slaughtered the wild rabbit during his first hunting test. The goal was simply to capture it, but Link went a step further and killed it. He stabbed it over and over again until the animal was no longer recognizable. No one else saw the act but Bradyn; he had followed Link out of idle curiosity to witness his performance.

It was as if Link was in a trance. When he snapped out of it, he was horrified by what he had done—so much so that he immediately skinned the animal and acted like he planned on eating it when he presented it to the examiners.

The examiners were not fooled, and wanted to have Link barred from entering the guild no matter what. The boy's brutality unnerved them. But Bradyn decided to exercise his power to allow Link to join, and the troubled examiners only relented when Bradyn took responsibility for Link. The Chief thought that with training and guidance, he would be able to instill the Hunter's Code into the boy, and therefore reign in Link's bloodlust.

Better of have the boy direct his bottled-up rage towards a productive outlet like hunting than the townsfolk, Bradyn believed.

Barring that, Link was an incredibly determined, dedicated and strong-willed boy. He would do anything to protect his brother and lived for that purpose. Bradyn was proud that he grew into such a competent hunter, and from Owlan's reports, Link's brutality was no longer an issue.

While Bradyn hoped for Link's success, a small part of him still worried. While Rebirth was the sword of their great ancestor, only referred to as the Green Hunter in ancient hunter texts, and it was a blade shrouded in mystery. There were only obscure scrolls claiming that Rebirth would only show itself to 'the one who carried the heart of a true warrior'.

As every hunter believed him or herself to be a fine warrior, it was understandable that many sought the legendary blade. It became the Great Quarry that every member of the guild dreamed of securing. But in the last several hundred years, interest for it dimmed as many came to believe the sword to be a myth, a fairytale from the ancient times just like monsters, magic and fairies.

Knowing that, for Midan to suggest finding Rebirth as Link's Final Proof…

It was normal to make Senior Hunters carry out a final task to cement their worthiness of attaining the top rank of True Hunter. It was called the 'Final Proof'-a requirement to ensure that the guild's illustrious rank would only be awarded to the most skilled. The Final Proof had to be something that would instantly garner respect and illustrate competence of the highest degree.

Bradyn was no stranger to the difficulty—he himself had to slay a water dragon in order to become a True Hunter, a feat by no small means. If Link's Final Proof was something similar, he had no doubt that the lad could do it. But Midan knew that as well, and offered searching Rebirth as his final task to cement Link's failure.

Bastard. And Bradyn let himself get played like a fiddle. Who was the bigger fool?

Bradyn took another swig of his drink and sighed.

If Link perished, he would never forgive himself.

.  
.

The next morning Chief Bradyn awoke with a dull pain behind his eyes. His body was growing more intolerant to alcohol with each passing year. It was hard to believe that in his younger days he could down a casket of brew and wake up fit as a horse the next day.

Today was Bradyn and Midan's turn to oversee the Briefing Hall. The Chief let out a weary sigh; though he couldn't stand that growly bigot, at least he would be free from the tedium of government duties for the day.

When Bradyn entered the Briefing Hall, he was greeted with a surly glare.

"So the fearless leader finally decides to grace us with his presence," Midan said snidely.

Bradyn responded with a noncommittal shrug as he seated himself. He flicked his silvery braid around his shoulders and went through the daily roster. He was keenly aware of Link's continued 'IN PROGRESS' status.

"It's been a whole week since your wonderboy's been seen," Midan said with a nasty smirk. "I wonder if it's his corpse we'll be seeing next? I know a lot of people who would be overjoyed."

"Elder Midan," Bradyn's tone was formal and severe, "am I correct in your implication that you would be happy to see one of our own killed? I don't think Elder Farlan would like to hear that."

Midan's wrinkly face darkened, but he said nothing. He turned away and went back to the roster with an indignant sniff.

The day went by as usual. It was uneventful, save for the hunter that had to get ten stitches because one of the rangers used a faulty barrier pin during a trapping job. Midan wanted to strip the ranger of his active licence, but Bradyn intervened and issued the poor lad a warning. Midan was always disproportionate in his punishments.

"Well, that's all for today," Bradyn said as he closed the roster book. He stretched the knots that developed in his back and massaged the cramp in his neck. Bradyn needed to go for a hunt if he had any hope of preserving his body.

As Bradyn and Midan packed up their things, a knock at the door sounded. They looked at each other in confusion.

When the door opened, Bradyn could not believe his eyes.

It was Link.

He walked into the Briefing Hall with slow purpose. He stood before the Elders, his face obscured by his matted hair. In his grasp was a burlap sack that was soaking with blood, dripping onto the polished tile like a leaky faucet.

"Lad, what's happened to you?" Bradyn asked, astonished.

Link's breathing was ragged, but it was not out of fatigue. Bradyn's brow etched with concern. "What is in that bag?"

When the young hunter looked at them, Bradyn was caught off guard by the bloodlust emanating from his eyes. The Chief knew that look well; the memory of the savage stabbing of the rabbit flashed in his mind's eye.

Link did not say anything. He simply upended the sack in response.

Out rolled the severed heads of harpies. The cuts to their necks were chillingly clean and precise; their dead faces were frozen in masks of grotesque agony.

Midan gasped at the sight. Out of the corner of his eye, Bradyn noticed the old man's knees trembling.

"I killed them. I killed them all…with this."

Link's hand went for his shoulder, and he slowly unsheathed it.

In his grasp was a blade unlike the Chief had ever seen, and in the darkness of the room it seemed to emit an ethereal glow. There was no mistaking it.

"Rebirth. I have found it."

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With Arryn soundly asleep, Rowyn gently shut his door and went back to the kitchen. She sighed inwardly when she saw the mountain of pots and dishes waiting for her. The hard part of cooking wasn't the cooking itself, but the aftermath.

Rolling up her sleeves, she dutifully went to work.

In some ways, washing dishes was therapeutic. It was a simple, repetitive task, so she could let her mind wander. At the teahouse she would dream of childish things like dark-haired knights on majestic white horses sweeping her off her feet, like the pictographs she saw in romantic novels from the Empire.

She felt herself blush when she realized that she replaced those unknown knights with a certain light-haired hunter...

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door.

_Who on earth could be coming here at this hour?_ Rowyn _tsked _and dried her hands hastily on her apron before moving to untie it.

Loud knocks in quick succession sounded at the door again.

"Hold your horses, I'm coming!" Rowyn huffed. Any louder and Arryn would wake up.

As she fumbled with the knot of her apron strings the knocks grew louder. Giving up, she sauntered to the door and opened it impatiently.

"What do you…" Rowyn's jaw dropped when she saw who was on the other side.

"…want…?"

A roguish smile formed on his lips.

"I want what's mine."

Link stepped into through the doorway, swept Rowyn into his arms and kissed her with unbridled passion. He pushed roughly her against the wall and ripped the apron off her as he shoved one hand into her blouse and the other up her skirt.

"Oh god…" Rowyn moaned.

He took her right then and there. Link had never been like that with her-he was assertive, coarse and dominating. He ravaged her again and again on the living room floor, not even bothering to fully undress either of them. There wasn't any urgency or sensitivity in his ministrations-only powerful lust.

After they both rode the crest of hot pleasure together, they collapsed in each other's arms, neither of them willing to get up just yet.

Letting out a deep, satisfied sigh, Link seemed to have returned to his senses. He stroked her face gently and kissed the crook of her neck.

"I missed you," he whispered.

Rowyn was hot and sweaty from Link's aggressive lovemaking. She intertwined her fingers into his light hair.

"Me too," she breathed. The faint warmth from the dying embers in the fireplace made the floor comfortable despite its hardness.

He suddenly grabbed both of Rowyn hands and gazed at her seriously. "Rowyn, I need to tell you something."

"What is it?" When he didn't answer right away, Rowyn's expression grew worried. "Don't tell me that you didn't—"

"I've become a True Hunter," Link's lips broke into a wide grin.

"Oh Link!" Rowyn covered her mouth, her eyes watering. "Oh my god! That's wonderful news!" She sat up on her knees and embraced him tightly. "Does that mean you've found it?!" She pulled him back and searched his face. "How? Where? Tell me-!"

A finger pressed onto her lips to silence her. Link's eyes were twinkling with mirth. "I had to leave it with the Elders for the time being. As for everything else," he gave her a lopsided smile, "that's a story for another day."

He gently held up her chin so he could look deeply into her hazel eyes. "But more importantly, now I can buy you a proper ring. And we can have that spring wedding you've always wanted."

Unable to hold herself back any longer, Rowyn began to cry in earnest.

Link was puzzled. "What's wrong? Is it too soon? We can always have it in the fall, though the white daffodils you like wouldn't be in season…"

"No, no, it's not that!" Rowyn said, fruitlessly wiping the ever-flowing tears. "The sooner we get married the better! It's just that...I know you've worked so hard for this. For all your life, you never took a break and you never stopped. Oh Link," she stroked his cheek, "I'm just so proud of you."

Link put his hand atop of Rowyn's and then nuzzled it, planting a kiss on her palm. The tenderness of his action calmed her.

"I was thinking," he said as he caressed her hand and kept it hovering near his lips, "we should travel the world after the wedding, take Arryn with us too."

"Oh, he would be over the moon! Arryn's always wanted to travel."

"But the first place we'd have to go is Zora Cove."

"Oh?" Rowyn laughed. "And what's so special that we'd have to go all the way there first?"

"Well," he said gently as he tucked a tendril of her dark hair behind her ear, letting his fingers linger on her cheek, "I've heard they have these wondrous castles in bubbles under water, where you can sleep surrounded by the ocean and starlight."

She looked up dreamily. "That sounds like something out of a fairytale."

"I know right? I've always dreamed of fucking you under the sea."

Rowyn frowned in mock disgust and flicked his nose. "You've don't have a lick of manners do you, you villain!"

Link grinned wolfishly. "I'm a villain that likes to lick you, if that's what you mean."

Rowyn threw her hands up in mock despair. "Why couldn't I have fallen for a proper knight instead of this lecherous mercenary?"

"Because knights make women's hearts go a-flutter," Link announced melodramatically, and then his whispered huskily into her ear, "but villains make them wet with desire."

"Is that so?" she puckered her plump lips in feigned petulance. "And how do you know that?"

"I know because the stories always paint them as evil because they'd do anything for the ones they love. Villains love with a passion hotter than the fires of hell-they'd kill for it. Knights would never do that." Link gestured flippantly. "Because of honour or the greater good or other such nonsense."

Rowyn was appalled. "So you think it's better to be selfish than heroic? Even if the fate of the entire world rested upon your actions?"

Link's eyes suddenly darkened. "If I had to choose between giving up the ones I loved for a mass of useless, thankless, spineless strangers, then I'd gladly let the world burn."

The bloodthirsty scorn in his voice alarmed Rowyn. Morality dictated at she should fight Link's cold cynicism, no matter how logical. Oddly, she could find nothing to say in response.

Link then surprised her by lifting her up into his arms as he got to his feet and cradled her as he began to walk towards the stairs.

"Come on, let this villain steal you away. I miss sleeping next to you."

As her fiancé effortlessly climbed the stairs with Rowyn in tow, she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. For all of his smiles, she could see the telltale signs of fatigue wearing on his eyes, dimming the once bright blue into a pale, muddled colour. Even at the ripe age of sixteen, the burden of consistently working without pause was beginning to show.

As Rowyn helped Link out of his armour, they made slow, sweet love. It was strange how Link could feel like two different people-she could especially tell whenever they were intimate.

There was 'that' Link, the one that took her and ravaged her raw and sore when he first arrived-carnal, primal and driven by pure impulse-and there was 'this' Link, the one that was tender, soft and loving. It wasn't like he had a split personality though. Rather, it felt like he had many layers that he kept hidden and buried deep. That he didn't feel compelled to hide his true nature from her made Rowyn feel cherished. She loved and accepted him, no matter which Link she was with. Besides, who didn't like variety?

It didn't take Link very long to fall into a deep sleep. Poor thing, he must've been exhausted from sleeping outdoors for an entire week.

His arm was draped across her as he slept soundly. Rowyn shifted his arm closer to her bosom, away from her lower belly. The doctor said that she was roughly four months along, but she wasn't the type to have a bulging belly. It relieved her that Link couldn't tell yet. Becoming a husband was one thing, but becoming a father was another. Rowyn knew that, together with the hunter induction ceremonies and the wedding, Link would be stressed enough. She didn't need to add undue pressure on him.

At least, not for now.

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_-chapter 2 fin_

_-I know I said monthly updates, but I'm going to be really busy until the December holidays, so I thought I'd update before the madness._

_-reviews, thoughts and observations are welcomed._

_-a long update, but one I felt was necessary. Clearly, things will start heating up, so stay tuned._

_-love, z.m._

_-p.s. hyphens seem to be malfunctioning...I'll try to figure it out!_


	3. Chapter 3

Interlude: Of a Cautious Man

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Yuri Steiner liked to think of himself as a cautious man. A prudent man. A practical man. And above all, a patriotic man. After all, he didn't get to become one of the top spies in the Skulltulla Network because of his bravado and genial personality. He was fiercely devoted to the prosperous vision of the United Hyrulean Empire. Never in the continent's long existence had anything like the Empire ever been achieved: true unity between all the lands and races of Hyrule under a single banner. Anything that threatened this unity was routed out before detection, and Yuri was happy to work in the shadows to that end.

So when he caught wind of a missing soldier in the remote guard tower near the Ordon border in the Lanayru grasslands, Yuri took it very seriously, unlike the other agents. No one seemed to care that a lazy sentry had gone AWOL for a couple of weeks, preferring to earn brownie points for pursuing anarchists and wannabe revolutionaries. But, like the cautious man Yuri was, he went to the missing soldier's post and looked through the shift books of the guard tower. Yuri found it odd that, as lazy as this missing soldier was, he never missed his scheduled shift. Ever.

After interviewing his fellow comrades, Yuri had a pretty accurate picture of the missing soldier. Timaz Holobrook was his name. Age 21. He was currently serving his mandatory two-year army duty, as required of all Empire citizens (barring associate allied nations like Ordon and Gerudo, who were only obliged to serve during times of war). While it was unanimous that he was as slow as a sloth, he was not one for dereliction of duty. In fact, he never so much as drank a single sip of alcohol on duty while the other guards would get themselves sloshed silly. They all thought it was strange that he didn't report for his shift, but even stranger because none of them saw him the night before his absence.

Yuri didn't like the sinking feeling of dread that developed in his gut. Most of the other agents in the Skulltulla Network poked fun at his neuroticism, saying that he took things much too seriously or that he had a nasty habit of always expecting the worst possible scenario. It would be an understatement that for once he wished that he had the ability to _really_ expect the worst. But no, the outcome of this case was much, much worse than anything this cynical, pragmatic man could ever imagine.

Yuri found the decapitated body of Timaz Holobrook in a dried up riverbed near the Great Zora Dam, around twenty five leagues away from the guard post. Any agent worth his salt would've located the corpse, and that troubled Yuri greatly; it seemed that the perpetrators didn't want just anyone to find Holobrook—they wanted to the Skulltulla Network to.

The bloody box a few steps away from the beheaded corpse was another matter entirely. From the flies buzzing around it, Yuri could guess where the missing head was. Grimacing, he flicked the maggots from the lid and opened it. He was greeted with the offending stench of rotting flesh and rancid blood. With the crown of his head scalped and his eyeballs gouged out was the unmistakable face of Timaz Holobrook. Yuri did not want guess whether the mutilation occurred before or after his death. Whoever did this were a different class of criminal. Not even rebels stooped to such sick butchery.

Upon closer inspection, Yuri noticed that the mutilation was a message. The shape in which he had been scalped formed an arrow-like formation, pointing to the body.

Yuri had enough of this. He flicked the box close and proceeded to check the soldier's corpse. From the aged congealing on the blood stump where his head used to be, Yuri guessed that he had been killed soon after his abduction and left here to rot. Just who were these sick bastards? They had no cause to kill this innocent lad. It wasn't like he was privy to army secrets―he was a low level recruit, and after his two-year stint he would have been relegated to militia reserve.

The perpetrators left the soldier's effects intact. His gear and armour were untouched, ruling out the possibility of cash-strapped rebels completely. As Yuri's hardened grey eyes scanned the corpse, he caught sight of something tucked in the front breastplate. Teasing it at its edge, it had the texture of parchment. Yuri pulled it out fully and discovered a sealed envelope. He flipped the document around. It was addressed to 'King Alistair Harkinian of the United Hyrulean Empire'.

Yuri dug his hand through his gear pack and pulled out a thermos. He unscrewed the steam gauge and let the wax seal hover over it. Soon the heat from the steam loosened the seal without breaking it, and Yuri read the document.

If he had found this letter under any other circumstances, he would've laughed it off. But considering it was found in the possession of a recruit who had been mutilated and murdered in a fashion most obscene, he knew this wasn't a joke.

Yuri could feel a cold sweat breaking out on his skin.

A nervous laugh escaped his lips. "Oh shit."

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Yuri wiped his sweaty palms on his suit jacket and went back to wringing his rolled dossier. The reception room was the most elegant area the man had ever stepped in. The upholstery was made of the finest silk woven with golden brocade, hanging from what must be golden railings and hooks. The chair he was sitting on was probably worth more money Yuri made in a year, perhaps even two years' worth if he took into account matching ottoman and gilded coffee table. And he liked to think that his salary was generous.

He racked back his matted hair and swallowed thickly. The opulence was meant to be intimidating. The individual he was about to see was the richest, most influential and probably the most powerful person in the entire Empire barring the king himself. If his reception room was this extravagant, Yuri could not imagine what he would find inside his actual office.

This person also happened to be Yuri Steiner's boss. Before today, he had no reason to ever interact with him in person. It was an unspoken rule, the sacred pillar of Skulltulla protocol.

He sorely wished he didn't have to all, considering the circumstances.

A small bell rang and the massive baroque door slid open. He didn't realize that it was an elevator. A woman dressed in a fine pinstripe suit-dress stepped out. It hugged her figure impeccably; the high-collared blazer was sharply cut and the tight-fitting floor length skirt trailed with a small train. She tugged at the hem of her blazer in a prim manner and clasped her hands together.

"His Eminence will see you now," she said. Her perfectly manicured hand was placed on the door to keep it from closing.

He stood from his seat and almost stumbled over the coffee table as he made his way to the elevator. He mumbled a clunky apology once inside, to which she only raised a single arched brow. There was only one brass button on the elevator dial. The woman pressed it, and then a hologram glyph keypad materialized. She rearranged the glyph-keys into an elaborate coded pattern. The mechanism hummed in approval and then the elevator revved to life.

Yuri glanced at the statuesque woman and gulped. Glyph codes are known as the most complex, most impenetrable form of encrypted security imaginable, as glyphs aren't words but series of strange, incomprehensible symbols that only highly-trained glyph coders understand and manipulate. His coming and going was completely at the mercy of this woman.

Whether or not she was bothered by his staring, Yuri could not tell. Her face was a mask of austere professionalism, betraying not a single slip of emotion. When the dial arrow completed a smooth arch around the marked semicircle and rang, the polished elevator door slid open. The secretary did not step out.

She gestured Yuri forward. He nodded at her, and she opened the door fully for him and he stepped forward.

This was not what Yuri had expected.

The top floor was minimally decorated, with saturated dark floorboards, contrasting white, pristine walls and a ceiling made of unvarnished wooden beams. Running along the edges where the floorboard and walls should have met were small creeks of water, hollowed out and running in tandem with the direction of hallway. The stark contrast between the opulence of the outer wing and the minimalism of the top floor made Yuri feel like he stepped into an entirely different world.

The hallway soon gave way to the main hall, which was surely a sight to see. The creeks fed into the main pools of water on both sides of the massive room, which had calm waterfalls trickling down the walls behind the glass sealant. There hallway turned into a runway set between the enclosed pools, which led to a dais that had a pillar of natural light shining directly upon it. Sitting upon the lofty cushioned throne at the very top of the platform was Lord Daramon Vane, Head Advisor to the United Hyrulean Empire, and he looked like he was meditating.

At first glance Daramon Vane did not look like the powerful man who controlled the inner workings of the Empire. He had cropped sandy hair framing his round baby-like face and kohl-rimmed eyes. His soft exterior was intentional, as no one would guess that the soft-spoken, trustworthy advisor was really the cunning, manipulative and dangerous man known as the Master Skulltulla. Nothing happened in the Empire unless Daramon Vane knew about it, and he gained his omniscience by employing a vast network of loyal spies, informants and assassins.

Steiner was the Skulltulla Network's top agent. He didn't know how long that status would last, especially now.

"When I was told that a certain man named Yuri Steiner was going to pay me a visit, I thought Teresa might've been mistaken. Though my dear secretary has never once faltered in her duties during her tenure, I believed she had erred, for how could my top spy ever think of breaking protocol by foolishly coming to see me? I wanted to believe, with all my heart, that she was mistaken."

Vane opened his heavily lined eyes and gave Yuri a disdainful look.

"And now I see that she was not."

Yuri cleared his throat abruptly. Now was not the time for weakness.

"I apologize for having disturbed you in your quarters, but I could not use the regular channels to communicate this with you. I come with a matter of great urgency."

Daramon Vane raised an unimpressed brow. But he didn't stop Yuri from speaking. He was giving Steiner the courtesy of explaining himself as Vane was mostly likely busy planning his execution.

"Master," Yuri said, pausing to flip through the dossier. He stepped up to Vane and handed the envelope to him.

"What is this supposed to be?"

"A declaration of war."

"A declaration of war?" Vane burst out laughing. "Is this supposed to be some kind of joke? How dare you—"

"I would never break protocol because of a _joke_, Master," Yuri said, surprising Vane with the sudden forcefulness in his tone. He beckoned for him to take the letter.

"I found this tucked in armour of the missing soldier from Base 26. His corpse was rotting at the Great Zora Dam junction and his head was severed from his body. His eyes had been gouged and head scalped. It was marked for His Highness King Harkinian, but I thought it would be best if I came to you first." When Vane did not look away, Yuri added tightly, "The body, of course, has been properly disposed of."

Nodding briskly, the Master Skulltulla snatched the letter from Steiner's gasp. He checked the mark pressed into the red wax seal, but did not recognize it. It was a depiction of a flaming sun that had been hollowed out. A solar eclipse?

Vane ripped the letter open, and scanned the document. When he lowered it, he looked considerably paler.

"Have you read this?" he asked quietly. There was a frantic edge to the question.

"Well, yes. Otherwise I wouldn't have known what it was."

He looked up at Yuri with barely contained panic and brandished the letter. "Has _anyone else_ read this?"

Yuri shook his head. "No, Master. I came straight to you."

The tension visibly fell from Vane's shoulders. His calmness should've placated Steiner, but instead it unnerved him.

"Ah, good. Very good," he sighed. Then he picked up one of the candles burning at his side, and tipped the letter into the small flame. Yuri watched in horror as it caught alight and began to burn.

He opened his mouth to protest, but the advisor gave Yuri an imperious glare.

"You listen to me, Agent Steiner. What I am about to say will never leave this room, understand? This letter never existed. We don't know anything about the Red Legion, or this...this _Dragmire_ character. Clear?"

"But Master, did you not read what that madman wrote? He's declared war on the Empire! He's going to start with—"

"Our priority is protecting King Harkinian and the Empire, not some country hunter bumpkins," Vane snapped.

The Master Skulltulla paused, and then continued in a rational manner. "I have read the letter, three times in fact. Whoever this bastard is, I'm calling his bluff. There is no way such an army can be amassed without my knowing about it. I will not send the entire continent into a panic over something that is highly unlikely and unsubstantiated."

Yuri was not so sure he agreed. "But what if he isn't bluffing?"

"Then Ordon is doomed, Yuri, and we will need to focus our efforts on places that _can_ be saved."

_Those poor, unsuspecting folk_. The letter continued to burn, and Yuri could only watch with dismay. "God have mercy on us all."

Vane dropped the ashes of the letter into the water and watched as the blackened remnants drained into the waterway.

"If there is a god, then he has forsaken this world."

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In this line of work, Yuri did not have high expectations. He knew that to be an effective agent, he had to forsake the life of a family man for the sake of Hyrule. Relationships were out of the question as well, as they posed a security risk. Friendships were sparse at best. What could he moan to them about anyway―that on his latest job, he had uncovered a gruesome murder and a declaration of war?

It was a good thing Yuri looked so unassuming, as even if he had the clearance to reveal such matters, no one would believe him. He supposed that's what made him such an adept spy―he looked too plain to be suspicious. With his symmetrical features, perpetual stubble and medium length auburn hair, he was handsome enough to get in a lady's good graces but not enough to be remembered. It served him well in undercover operations, and even better in targeted eliminations.

But no matter how gruesome his job description, Yuri believed that what he was doing was for the greater good. The Skulltulla Network was Hyrule's first line of defense against all manner of threats, and it was a job that Yuri knew would garner little gratitude. No one would ever know of his exploits, of the things he had to sacrifice and, at times, the awful things he had to do in order to keep the Empire safe. That the people had no idea and remained ignorant to the madness simmering in the shadows was the only thing Yuri had to remind himself that he had done a job well done. If people noticed, then he would have failed as an intelligence operative.

As Yuri followed the prim Teresa out of Vane's lavish dwelling, his mind raced. He respected the Network's fearless leader, Daramon Vane, above all else. To establish a covert, high efficient and completely secretive agency was no small task. Yuri did not want to begin to think about the painstaking effort it had taken the royal advisor in setting up this intelligence machine, all the while appearing as the most wholesome, whimsical government official. The public viewed Daramon Vane as a cheery mascot of the political echelon, and he often reinforced this image with carnival themed parties and silly, extravagant costumes.

In hindsight, Yuri wondered if he had done the right thing. If this Dragmire knew about the Skulltulla Network, why bother with the red herring tactic of addressing the King of the Empire? Did he―or she― really want the packaged letter to reach King Harkinian directly, or was this some kind of trick to observe how Vane would react? Did Dragmire know enough about Vane to fully understand his influence in the Empire? Was Yuri just looking into things that weren't really there? There were too many questions buzzing in the agent's mind that would never be answered.

However, this was the first time in his service to the Skulltulla Network that Yuri ever felt strong reservations over his leader's decision. He didn't even feel this strongly about the Qarlen Incident, when a small group of Eldin separatists were assassinated. In that case, Vane had issued a secret order to stage a fire and ensure none survived. While Yuri did not like such extreme measures, he understood that rebellion of any kind had to be rooted out before it could be allowed to fester. Especially with something as tenuous as race relations―Steiner orchestrated the operation himself.

But this…Yuri saw no reason not to at least warn the Ordonim, even if the threat was bogus. Did not the alliance with the Empire go both ways—that the Empire would aid its allies in times of need and vice versa? Such a flagrant disregard of the Unification Pact―and by the Head Advisor no less―deeply disturbed Yuri.

Yet, he tried to see it from Vane's point of view. It would be the antithesis to Skulltulla protocol to kick up a fuss when it could be taken care of discretely. Knowing Vane, he probably had a contingency plan in place by now. He probably dispatched agents of all manner and skill to the Ordon border to await the so-called 'New Dawn', which would be in roughly three weeks. This was precisely what the Network was for.

Yuri wanted to believe this. He really wanted to. But if that was Vane's plan, he would have alerted Yuri of it first. He would never, ever tell the agent to act like a threat didn't exist if he didn't mean it. No, Daramon Vane was going to let Ordon meet a catastrophic end instead of doing what he should. He should be sending a messenger by jet bike to alert Chief Bradyn of this security threat. He should be whipping the military into action and sending an army to the Ordon border to establish a front line to fight back the invaders.

If nothing was done, and Ordon was allowed to fall, then the only geographical defense between them and the Empire would be destroyed.

He had no choice.

For the first time in his career, Yuri Steiner was going to renege on his orders. Not doing so would be betraying the safety of the Empire. And that simply was not an option.

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_hey all. _

_So, smaller update, but I felt a little one was needed to set up what I have in store._

_I'll be working full time on this story during the holidays, so expect oodles of awesome action and plot development._

_cheers,_

_-z.m._

_p.s. do you guys prefer smaller updates at regular-ish intervals, or really big ones once in a while?_


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

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"Chief Bradyn, you asked for me?"

Bradyn waved Owlan casually. "Yes, yes, come in. Sit, have a drink."

Owlan wouldn't pass up the offer of having some of Bradyn's fine liquor. Unlike Horland, Owlan was much less fastidious and much more laid back. He and Bradyn saw eye-to-eye on many things.

He poured a quarter of an inch of booze into his glass. He paused, and then sloshed in some more for good measure. Bradyn laughed at Owlan's liberalism.

"Careful now, I may be old but I can still drink you under the table, son!"

Owlan tipped his glass with the Elder. "To Link and Rowyn."

"Aye," Bradyn rose his glass as well, "to Link and Rowyn!"

After a generous gulp, they set down their glasses simultaneously and smacked their lips in satisfaction. They lapsed into a comfortable, contemplative silence. Owlan sunk deeper into the plush chair, admiring the sunset from the Chief's private parlour.

"You'd think after fifteen years I'd get tired of the view, but I never do and I suspect I never will," Bradyn remarked wistfully.

Owlan glanced at the older man briefly, thinking that being the leader of a quaint country like Ordon had its perks, and maybe he should try his luck for public office when he reached Bradyn's age. Retiring in such comfort would be nice.

"Owlan, if anything should ever happen to me, I want you to watch over Link. I'm asking you not just as a friend or as a fellow hunter, but as the leader of this noble country."

Bradyn's sudden solemnness took Owlan aback. The expression was so foreign on his face that Owlan felt disconcerted. It was serious, pleading and vulnerable. His age became painfully apparent to Owlan right now.

"Your word, Owlan, that you will watch over those boys. Especially Link."

Owlan licked his lips and considered his words carefully. "I would think that you'd ask me to watch Arryn instead. Link's a man now. And in a fortnight he'll be a married one."

"You misunderstand me. Arryn is a bright lad, and Link lives for his sake. But who will watch over Link?" Bradyn's eyes dimmed. "Link...he..." the Chief shook his head abruptly. " Rowyn is a sweet girl, but she can't handle him on her own. So, will you do it? You'll keep an eye out for Link? Keep him out of trouble?"

"Of course," Owlan said. "You needn't have asked. I trained Link too. You can't hog all the glory."

Bradyn was visibly relieved. "I knew you would do it. I didn't have a doubt in my mind. Still. Things won't always be this way. I can feel it in my bones. Call it elderly intuition. Could be that old people always get these feelings. Maybe it's because we know that the world isn't what it used to be. Maybe it's our way to clinging to the nostalgia of the past. Were things any better when I was young? I don't know. While we have more comforts, the human condition remains the same."

He turned back to the vista. "Ordon, for all its faults, is a beautiful country. I've traveled the world and there's no place like home. Rolling green hills. Forests that stretch for as far as the eye can see. Pristine lakes. You won't find that out there. I just wished the people were more…"

"Thankful," Owlan finished.

Bradyn nodded with a sad smile. "When I first agreed to succeed Chief Floryn, I thought that to be a great leader one had to think like a shepherd. I thought, here are all these sheep, and the only thing keeping them together is me. I have to make sure the wolves don't snatch the lambs and the weak ones don't get left behind. It's up to me to lead my flock to better pastures. But as the years passed, I found that people aren't like sheep. At least sheep follow you when you whistle. These people…"

He shook his head slowly and sipped at his drink. He changed pace. "There is a sickness plaguing our people. You can't see it, and it's undetectable by modern medicine as we know it. But it's contagious. It can turn otherwise nice, generous folk into the nastiest of creatures, and once the infection takes root it is next to impossible to treat."

Bradyn's eyes glistened. Owlan didn't like open displays of emotion. It made him nervous. "I pray our people change what is in their hearts. I pray to the heavens and the earth and all that is in between that we move into the light of understanding and reflection."

Unsure what brought on all this sentimentality and existentialism, Owlan's gaze returned to the sunset.

He didn't know what else to say other than, "Amen."

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_Hear not the Faceless._

_See not the Faceless._

_Call not the Faceless' name._

_For what is promised will come, and what will come is nigh._

_The Faceless laugh. The Faceless laugh._

_The Faceless see all. The Faceless see you. _

_I see you._

_I found you, my sweet. I found you at last._

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Rowyn awoke in a frightful spasm. Her sudden movement caused Link to stir, but thankfully he didn't wake up.

She let out a steady breath and calmed herself. Now that she was able to think rationally, she still couldn't make sense of what she saw. Frightful spectres and limbs made of red stone. The stone crumbled, revealing beady, bloodshot, all-seeing eyes fixed directly upon her.

And that voice...it couldn't be.

No, it was probably just her nerves.

That's it. Just nerves. There was no such thing as monsters and magic. Not in this world. Not anymore.

When she moved to get up, she felt Link's arms tighten around her.

He sidled closer to her, pressing his lean body against her soft backside. She chuckled huskily when she felt his excitement.

Rowyn's hand crept onto Link's leg. She could feel his body shudder as she traced her hand upwards. Just as was about to reach her destination, the alarm clock went off.

They both slumped. Rowyn clucked her tongue wearily, pulling her hand from beneath the covers and resetting the gear on the clock.

"Link, it's almost time for your confirmation ceremony." She didn't like how hoarse her voice sounded right now. How unattractive. "And I have to get Arryn ready for school."

Rowyn tapped his thigh as she threw the duvet off.

"C'mon. Up you get. You can't be late today."

Link groaned and pressed the pillow over his head. It was clear he didn't like being thwarted by a cuckoo clock.

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After rousing Arryn from slumber, Rowyn went to the kitchen and prepared breakfast. As this was Link's first morning back, she wanted to make him his favourite―poached eggs on freshly baked buns with thick, goopy hollandaise sauce. Normally Link could not stomach heavy breakfasts since it would weigh him down during his assignments. But now, he could take his time. Rowyn couldn't help but grin.

"Do you know how much I want to skip this ceremony?" Link sauntered into the kitchen. He was already dressed in his ceremonial uniform. Rowyn hid her burning face. Was it possible for someone to be that handsome? He yawned and collapsed into the chair. She came along with a piping kettle and cup in hand and poured him fresh coffee. He must have noticed her expression when he added, "I'd rather stay in bed with you." There was a sensual edge to his voice as he caught the hem of her dress.

"Link," Rowyn chided, "not in the kitchen." She probably shouldn't have smiled, as Link bolted up from his seat and pulled her in towards him.

She immediately tried to push Link off her. Startled, he craned his head questioningly, and Rowyn tilted her chin meaningfully over his shoulder. When his gaze followed, he immediately released her.

Arryn looked at Link, then at Rowyn and then back at Link.

"Brother!" he cried and ran towards Link, embracing him with all his might. "You're back!"

Rowyn and Link both sighed in relief. As Link eased off her, she quickly made herself decent.

"Hey kiddo!" Link kissed the top of Arryn's head and lifted him up onto his shoulder.

As Rowyn watched the brothers chatter happily, she noticed something strange.

Was Link always this big? Hadn't they always been close in height, with Link only a smidgen taller? Now he was standing at almost an entire foot above her. His muscles rippled from under his hunter uniform, making the seams taut around his shoulders and arms. Link looked…older. How was any of this possible, if he was only gone for less than a fortnight?

Rowyn shook her head. She was probably just imagining things. Being pregnant does crazy things to women's bodies, so it probably addled her perception too. She was just happy to see her future husband safe and sound.

"Brother! Brother, please!" Arryn giggled as Link pumped him up and down in the air. "My tummy is going to flip!"

"Link, put him down! He needs to eat with his medicine!" Rowyn cried.

After a couple more throws, Link set Arryn to the ground swiftly. "Brush your teeth before eating. Go on."

Arryn nodded vigorously and made his wobbly way to the bathroom.

"Link, you ruined the poor boy's balance!"

He was unrepentant. "That's his punishment for interrupting me."

Rowyn flicked his ear, the heat rising to her cheeks. Her demeanour then changed and grew serious. "Link, I need to tell you something."

Link sobered up and sat still. She squirmed and fidgeted, fighting back the shaky smile that kept tugging at the corner of her lips.

"I mean, I wanted to tell you after the wedding. But now that I've slept on it...I was thinking the sooner you know the better."

She took Link's hand. His brow was etched in confusion as she placed it onto her belly and covered his hand with hers.

"You're going to be a father."

She looked up at him with nervous excitement.

Link remained silent.

"Well, we can't possibly think of going on a globe-trotting honeymoon now," he said finally.

Rowyn didn't expect such a muted response. Her mood instantly deflated.

"I-I'm sorry," she looked away to hide her disappointment. "I know how much you were looking forward to travelling."

"It's not exactly your fault. As I do recall, I had an active role in the manner." His mouth broke into a crooked smile. "But this is miracle. A blessing."

"You're not upset?"

"Upset? I'm so happy there are no words to describe it."

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Hunched over the toilet in the Hunter's Guild, Link retched until nothing but saliva and stomach fluid was left.

He groaned and wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand. He could taste its acidic bitterness as it burned his throat.

Rowyn only confirmed his long-held suspicion of her condition. He knew that she was with child when he noticed small changes, yet key changes all the same. Link's photographic memory was without peer, and he ravenously memorized every hollow, curve and blemish on her body.

It was easy to spot the tell-tale signs of pregnancy, but Link didn't want to say anything for fear of unnerving her. Just like the wives and children of doctors who don't like to be examined at home, Link didn't want to treat his family like animals to be studied and observed in keen detail. And what if Link was wrong and Rowyn had simply decided to eat a little more than usual? He valued sleeping in the same bed as her enough to not risk it.

Sometimes, privacy was the best policy.

Nevertheless, the prospect of fatherhood should have brought Link nothing but joy. Why was he so unsettled? He felt fine when he woke up this morning. Perhaps the fatigue of the journey was getting to him? Or maybe he wasn't used to eating calorific foods first thing in the morning?

Link could think of no other reasons for his nausea.

No matter. He needed to get a hold of himself. He made sure his ceremonial uniform was spotless and straightened his collar.

He looked in at his reflection and examined himself for the first time in ages. His face had long ago lost its softness; each line was sharp and well-defined. He suddenly remembered why he didn't like looking in the mirror; as he grew older, he saw more of her looking back at him, and it angered Link. Link hated her―he hated both of them―for abandoning him, for leaving Arryn alone to face the horrible fate of struggling with a nigh-incurable disease.

If Link could bring back the dead, he'd resurrect them just so he could kill them with his own two hands.

No, enough. He was past this. He did what those cowards couldn't do―he survived. And now he was going to the very ceremony that would confirm his achievements. This was the moment Link had worked tirelessly for since the day his childhood had been cruelly dashed from him. So dogged had his efforts been that parts of his hair had gone white from sheer stress.

From this moment onward, the bulk of Link's worries would be behind him. He had a woman, he had a child on the way, and he had a brother whose future would now be bright and full of life.

Link headed to the Ancient Sepulchre with confidence.

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A gentle wind swept past the rolling hillside. The bright sun shone down, its radiant light occasionally blotted by thick, voluminous clouds that sluggishly followed the trail of the wind.

Arryn sat outside under the eaves of the school, taking in the sounds of nature, and enjoying the feel of the wind on his skin. He closed his eyes and let the incoming gust ruffle his hair.

His eyes fluttered opened at the sound of his name being called.

"Here you are."

It was Miss Orielle. She was the only teacher who treated Arryn normally. Everyone else either avoided him, acted like he was kind of freak or treated him, at best, with muted disdain.

Anyway, like everything else, it was just his luck that Miss Orielle was not his primary instructor and he was instead saddled with the infuriating craven known as Mister Robban.

"So," she took a seat beside Arryn. "What happened?" Orielle always had a mock-weary smile that he found amusing.

"Gale thought it'd be real funny to draw a crude caricature of my future sister-in-law. As you can imagine, I was not impressed."

"Clearly."

"I then informed Gale that he was so rotten not even the earth would countenance his maggot-riddled corpse. He didn't understand, so I proceeded to snatch the picture from him and ripped it shreds. I realized that I was too tired to kick the shit out him, so I told him that his mother was sleeping with the milkman and that's who his real father is. He cried. I laughed. And that was it."

Orielle looked at Arryn with a dumbfounded expression.

"Oh, come on Miss Orielle. I'd understand if you didn't know if you were _blind_. Anyway, Robban-"

"Mister Robban," Orielle swiftly corrected.

"Fine. _Mister_ Robben did not approve of a lowly wretch like me putting a rich lord's son parentage into question, so now I'm being punished by being made to sit out recess. Granted, I'm too tired to frolic in the fields so it's moot."

She let out a snort. "Sometimes I wonder if you're not an adult hiding in a child's body."

Arryn's lip curved into a lop-sided grin. Everyone told him he looked just like his brother when he did that. "I heard teetering between life and death does that to you."

"Whoever told you that isn't lying." Orielle's smile collapsed into a frown. "But Arryn, you can't do that."

"What, telling morons the truth or making them cry?"

"Both. And don't call your peers 'morons'. It's unbecoming."

"Fine. I'll think of more eloquent insults then."

"Arryn."

He lapsed into silence. The sun was too bright―it was giving him a headache. Why couldn't he just die already or get better already? Living but not being able to do the things he wanted sucked.

His gaze trailed to the field, where the children played baldersnatch. He didn't envy them. But he couldn't help feeling that nagging emptiness that came with being the 'other'. He knew the isolation was merely a tool to subvert his threatening intelligence and gain leverage over him. The Empire would do the same thing to countries they wanted to assimilate but were too afraid to invade. Like Solmerheim.

Arryn was Solmerheim. He felt a brief swell of pride before it deflated. Solmerheim ended up joining the Empire's Alliance after its economy was crippled through indirect sanctions and a sophisticated campaign of demonization, isolation and harassment. No matter how powerful and cultured, a country simply couldn't function if no one wanted to come and do business. The fate of every nation rested in its economy. The Empire knew that well and exploited it. Fucking Empire.

If Link knew the kind of sailor's mouth Arryn had on him, he would be appalled. Granted, Arryn was also supposed to be this pure, innocent flower of untainted youth, incapable of cunning and manipulation. Needless to say, nothing was farther from reality.

Of course, it didn't matter whether he feigned sweetness or showed his true colours at school; his teachers and the rest of society already thought him as the embodiment of everything wrong with the world. It wasn't his fault that his parents were ill of mind and decided to off themselves. But such was the life of the humble country folk―superstition superseded reason.

But he didn't give a damn. Arryn was a bloody genius. He didn't need anyone else to tell him that―he knew it intrinsically. It brought him great joy that no matter how hard they tried to fail him, Arryn was at the top of his class without breaking a metaphorical sweat. If only his body wasn't such a weak vessel for his boundless brilliance.

"You look ghastly." Orielle loomed over Arryn with a sweeping gaze. "Like a ghost. Do you want me to take you home? I can call Rowyn if you want."

He forgot that his new medication, which was supposedly more efficient that the cocktail of drugs he used to take, had a slew of nasty side effects. It caused his once straw-coloured hair to turn into a whitish platinum blond, and his eyelids to darken. It made him weak, tired and hungry all the time. Some days he'd look so pale and gaunt that he resembled the redeads from those horror stories. No wonder they called the medication '_phantasmerase_'_._

He slumped back into his seat and closed his eyes. "I'm fine," he said. The doctors warned him about getting excited or angry as it 'threw his humors out of balance'. What utter hogwash . But he could not deny that he was feeling less than optimal. "I just need to rest for a bit."

Arryn felt a shockingly hot hand press against his temple. "I can't let you go back to class like this. You're freezing. I promised your brother I'd look after you."

Arryn fought the urge to spit a snide remark. But Miss Orielle didn't deserve that, so he instead said wearily, "You're not going to let this slide, are you?"

"Nope."

"Fine. But I'll walk myself home."

"Arryn, you might be a smart-ass, but you're still a kid," she said.

"I may be a kid, but I'm not an idiot," he replied. "I can recite the equation that calculates the earth's relative gravitational pull to celestial objects off the top of my head. Can you? No? I think I can manage a short walk home."

"Arryn..." Orielle trailed uncertainly.

He then flashed her that smile Link would use to get his way. Apparently women found it irresistible. Miss Orielle was not immune.

To his satisfaction, Orielle relented. "When you grow up, I fear for the fate of the world," she laughed dryly. "Alright, I'll let you go home on your own. But I'm going to watch you until you enter the Shadewood. And that isn't up for debate," she added when Arryn opened his mouth to protest.

"Fine," he grumbled. It's not like she was offering to hold his hand or anything.

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"Shit on a shingle," Arryn swore when he tripped over a tree root.

Orielle advised against taking the main road because of moving vehicles. She thought it would be safer to wobble in the relative safety of a thicket than collapse in front of a horse and buggy. In addition to assuaging her worries, Arryn knew a clever shortcut that would lead him straight into his backyard.

He wished he wasn't so tired. Arryn decided to take a breather near the base of a great redwood. The undergrowth at its roots cushioned him, and he let out a pleasant sigh of relief. He looked to the sun shining through the thick canopy of forest, taking time to marvel at the scenery. After all, who knew how many chances he'd get?

Arryn knew that his thoughts were pretty morbid. But despairing over the unknown was depressing, and what was more depressing than dwelling on his ill health?

The sad part was that Arryn could remember a time when he was healthy. It was around the age of four that it came out of nowhere. One day he was an energetic child playing hopscotch with Link, the next he was on his hands and knees vomiting up buckets of blood.

When his parents rushed him to the hospital, they ran tests on him. When the results came, it baffled the doctors. For the life of them, they couldn't figure out what was wrong with Arryn. They said that his body was reacting like he was missing something vital but they didn't know what. His parents did not take the news very well.

While Arryn's condition remained a mystery to even the elite researchers of the Empire, luckily the Arcanum found a way to keep people like him alive. Arryn would have to take drugs like _phantasmerase_ to keep the deadly symptoms at bay—the caveat being that if he missed a single dose, he'd start coughing up his entire blood supply.

Even though he liked to complain about his ailing health, it was because of the phenomena that was his illness that Arryn became enamored with books. He would devour tome upon tome pertaining to a wide range of subjects, from medicine to philosophy. His memory was so sharp that he could recall the contents of an entire book after a single read.

Yet, it was the books of philosophy and ancient fables that altered Arryn's view of the world. He came to the sensible conclusion that his condition, no matter what it was, was merely a side-effect to the constant adaptations humans had to undergo since time immemorial. It was just this time, his body adapted in a strange way that was killing him. Maybe in another circumstance it would've kept him alive while everyone else died out. Such is the curiousness of fate.

Nevertheless, Arryn would not allow himself to die until he figured out what was eating at him. Something was causing him to throw up precious life fluid, and he had to find out. What good was having above-average intelligence if he couldn't do that? He didn't know if he believed in a god, but surely this was the reason he came to be. His existential function, so to speak.

Which is why he planned on getting Link married. If Arryn hadn't pulled the strings and threw them together at every possible moment, they wouldn't have done a thing. But the sexual tension was so frenetic that was annoying Arryn, so he had to do something. With Link's promotion to True Hunter, it pleased him that a wedding would be fast upon them.

Once Link had a wife and child to project his anxieties on, Arryn would be free to leave to the Empire capital of Castleton and join the prestigious and notoriously exclusive Arcanum. It was _the_ bastion of knowledge and technological innovation, unparalleled and magnificent. There, Arryn would have the foremost libraries and laboratories at his fingertips.

The thought of the Arcanum soon becoming a tangible future gave Arryn the extra boost he had been lacking all day. Dusting his trousers, he set back onto the Shadewood trail and entered the residential district. He hopped, skipped and jumped to the tune of a song he heard long ago but he couldn't discern from where. All he knew was that it was something that played in his head whenever he was in a good mood.

When he reached the perimeter of the house, Arryn suddenly felt light-headed. It was bizarre. It wasn't the kind he'd feel after losing too much blood. It felt like there was a haze that he couldn't see in the air. He randomly shuddered.

Unnerved, Arryn saw that the back door was wide open. _That's weird_, he thought, _Rowyn is always paranoid about keeping the door closed, no matter what._

Staying a good ways away from the house, Arryn trekked into the park overlooking the house from a grassy vantage point and hid behind the hedges. He struggled to focus his tired eyes, and he saw the front door was not only open but it threatened to fall from the single hinge it hung desperately to.

Standing in the doorway was Rowyn. She looked like she saw a ghost.

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"That will be four hundred and seventy rupees."

Rowyn gave the chemist a strained smile as she reached for her purse and dispensed the amount.

"It's gone up since last time," she said.

"I don't set the prices." The chemist gave her a careless shrug and swiped the money roughly from her hand. "The Arcanum does."

She hid her grimace and muttered a small thanks before stuffing the small white paper bag into her shoulder satchel.

How could the price of Arryn's medicine balloon so much in so little time? It had been steadily increasing for the past few months, but this month it jumped a whopping thirty rupees. She understood that the Arcanum was the best institution in the world, and the cost of developing drugs was very high… but this was ridiculous. Link's promotion couldn't have come at a better time. If he stayed at his Senior Hunter salary, they would have to make the choice between basic necessities and medication…and going back to such a place was never a good thing. Especially for Link. He worked so hard so he wouldn't have to make that choice ever again.

Rowyn went through her daily activities absentmindedly. Before she knew it, she was making her way into the house with her arms were weighed down by groceries.

Kicking off her boots with surprising difficulty and throwing the keys into the jar beside the door, Rowyn quickly wobbled to the kitchen. Carrying a baby certainly ruined her balance and made her feet easily swollen. Not to mention the breast tenderness—but she didn't want to think about that. As she made her way across the living room, she caught something glint.

The groceries fell to the floor.

Her mind was focused on one thing, and that was escape. Yet, she knew it would be futile. She felt like she was going to cry. She knew that know he found her, he would never let her out of his sight again.

He sat there with a wineglass in hand. He took a casual sip, and let out a sigh of satisfaction.

"You've been living well, haven't you?" His voice was nonchalant. If someone were to walk in, they would think these two were old friends talking about the weather.

Her throat constricted in fear. Would he kill her? Maim her? She shuddered, unable to fathom the depths of his wrath.

"I've been looking for you, my love, for so very long. So long, in fact, that I thought I might've lost you forever. But no, here you are, alive. Eating and drinking and fucking—" he paused and indicated her belly with his wine glass "—like you don't have a care in the world. Like you didn't run away and leave me a broken mess of a man."

He snarled at her when she managed to choke his name.

"Do not speak my name, whore. You lost that privilege the moment you turned your back on me." He paused and regained his composure, solidifying it with another sip of wine. "Hmph. Utilitarian swill. Am I to believe you truly prefer the life of a house wench over the prestige of being First Consort?" Though much of his face was hidden in shadow, she could imagine the arrogant purse of his lips.

Or course, all these questions were rhetorical. Typical, he always liked to hear himself speak. She decided that her best course of action would be to listen to him, lull him into a false sense of security and then hit him over the head with the uncorked wine bottle near him. How she'd truly get away was another matter entirely. For now, this was her only option for escape.

"Why do you remain standing while I am seated?" The man tilted his head to the armchair adjacent him.

She felt his cold eyes bearing into her as she made her way to her seat. There was no word to describe the fear and tension seizing her body right now. It took everything in her to keep herself still and not shake like a leaf rattling in a storm.

He flicked his hand at the fireplace and it roared to life.

"Ah, much better. Now I can gaze upon your noble brow."

He grabbed her chin roughly. His long, black nails could easily puncture her neck if he so chose.

He twirled a lock between his index fingers. "Clouding your eyes...altering your skin..." he laughed. "You've mimicked them right down the ears! You look like a human alright. But then again, you were always so good at disguising yourself.

His hand snaked to her belly. "Tell me, what were you when it becomes painfully clear that you are not a human, hmm? And the babe comes out as something they'd see as an abomination?

A dark chuckle rumbled from his throat. "My, my. I must say this was not a well-thought out plan. You run away from home, join these lowly beings and for what? What could you possibly gain from shaming yourself in such a degrading fashion? Do you enjoy humiliating yourself? Well, do you?"

The edge in his prompt commanded her to answer. She hated this. She hated how he still affected her, that he could maintain dominance over her with little effort. Her frustration and despair funneled into her words.

"I have love. I need nothing else."

The cruel man smiled again. "Humans are incapable of such a refined sentiment. What is the best that these beasts can express? It is the infatuation and loyalty that a dog may have for its master. Nothing more."

He suddenly became angry that she had been avoiding his gaze, so he grabbed her face roughly and forced her to look at him. She tried to move, to scream, to do anything but her body denied her at every turn. She could do nothing as the vile man put his arm around her and snaked his finger to stroke her cheek. She thought she had to be dreaming. She closed her eyes. She had to be in the middle of some horrid nightmare.

"I know what you're thinking," the man purred, "but this is very real. I am here. You're scared because you know what you've done. However, I'm not going to kill you, as much as you deserve it. No, not yet. Not before you see everything and everyone you _love_ ripped away from you. I will take great joy in burning this hovel that you chose over me to the ground. But not before I kill that filthy dog that you've been fucking."

She felt his lips brush her ear. His breath was cool against her skin.

"My sweet, sweet Zelda. Won't you smile for me?"

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_A/N: _

_-And so...it begins. As you can tell, the lapse of the use of 'Rowyn' was very much intentional, in case you were wondering :)_

_-Chapter 5 will be up soon, I promise!_

_-I realize the zelda fandom is kinda sluggish lately, but please, let me know how you're liking (or maybe not?) so far. Maybe even telling me what you like to see? I'd love to know, if only to improve :) _

_-And, because I'm curious._

_love, _

_z.m._


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